


A Monster Between Us

by melrosie



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 118,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16336781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melrosie/pseuds/melrosie
Summary: Therese is a young artist and photographer finding her footing in an unexpected job in the fashion industry, Carol is the Fashion Director of the AIRD family label, struggling through an ugly divorce and custody battle. When they meet they are instantly intrigued with the other. Therese quickly becomes attached to both Carol and her daughter, but it is clear when she meets Carol's ex husband, that his temper and resentments run deep. Their love, however new, is tested by the reaches of sabotage and slander, violence and distance. What can these two women do with a monster between them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will provide content warnings in the Chapter Notes as they arise.   
> This is largely unedited, so I hope it isn't too much of a mess.

The steady hum of traffic and early morning light filter in through two large windows at the front of the roomy studio apartment. Therese Belivet stares sleepily at a bird on the fire escape and glances at her phone on the bedside table. 6:45 AM. She sighs and throws off her blankets, gritting her teeth at the chill as the gets up and grabs her robe off a coat rack by the bed. 

Therese ties the robe shut and flicks on the space heater sitting in the middle of the living space, stepping over to the kitchen and turning the water on. She fills the kettle and sets it to boil, rubbing her arms and shimmying to warm herself up. Her phone pings and she dances over to it, she’s receiving a voice call. She answers it. 

“Morning Rick.” She greets, finger-combing her hair out of her face. 

“How do you do it?” Rick replies, beaming at her through the phone. 

“What?” Therese asks skeptically, and Rick laughs. 

“You look like a million bucks first thing in the morning!” 

Therese rolls her eyes playfully, and gives him a knowing look. Rick laughs. 

“Lemme show you what I’ve been working on.” He says, flipping the phone camera to show her the intricate chalk art on the blacktop of some public park.

“I like it.” Therese says, picking out a few familiar references he used in his work. He had used photographs she or their friend Danny had taken and made an impressive amalgam out of them. 

“Used some pics from that shoot you did in September.” He flips the camera back.

“I can see that.” She says, putting her phone down on the counter as the kettle comes to a boil. She grabs a mug off the shelf above her and grabs a tea bag from the jar on the counter, going through the motions of making the tea with pure muscle memory. 

“I’m still driving you to work right?” Rick asks, Therese can hear the sounds of him cleaning up his chalk, dropping them into a plastic tool box. He turns off the camera, bringing the call to voice-only. 

“Yep.” Therese squeezes some honey into her mug, grabbing a spoon from the dish rack and poking at the tea bag. 

“Alright. I’ll see you in about forty-five minutes.” 

“Yep. See you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Therese hangs up, opening the lid of her tiny compost bin and spooning her steaming tea bag into it. She steps over to her freezer, retrieving the ice cube tray and pops a big one into her mug. She watches it snap and crack from the heat.

~**~

“So I got a response from the travel agent.” Rick says, sitting at the island in Therese’s kitchen, still wearing his coat. On the other side of the room, Therese stands by her bed, making her bed with precision. 

“Oh yeah?” She says, walking around the bed to pull the lever to close her murphy-bed. The underside of the bed reveals a desk with a few books and a small lamp on it, as well as Therese’s laptop. 

“She said it’s cheaper to book for the cusp of the season.” He says, appearing quite thrilled by the idea. “We could book for March.” 

“I can’t just ditch this job four months in.” Therese says as she packs some coveralls and a pair of paint splattered shoes into a small duffel bag sitting on her coffee table. Her camera bag is already packed and sitting by the door.

“You’re doing well with your painting and photography though.” He knows he’s stretching that statement as far as it will go. “And you weren’t even sure about this job.”

“Need I remind you that I am only living here, on reduced rent, ‘cause the landlady doesn’t want to get the heating fixed?” 

Rick raises his hands in surrender. “Mama said she’d be happy to bring you with us.” He reminds gently, and Therese responds with an exasperated smile. 

“And Mama is very generous.” She says, grabbing a few face masks from a storage chest against the wall opposite her bed. She adds them to her duffel. “But I cannot accept that kind of gift.” 

She zips the bag shut and carries it over to Rick, who takes it from her when they get to the coat rack by the front door. Therese puts her jacket and scarf on, and picks up her camera bag, slipping that on as well.

“It’s not a ‘no’ yet. But I won’t go on your family’s dime.” She says, and Rick sighs, slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder and opening the front door.

“It’s really not that much of a gift, Terry.” He complains. 

“It is to me.” She motions for him to go ahead and follows him out of the apartment, locking the door behind her and following him to the stairs. “Shall we?” 

“If the travel agent can find cheap tickets will you really consider it?” Rick asks, looking back at Therese as they make their descent. 

“Yes.” She says, not quite as convincingly as she’d like, but enough for him to stop pressing the issue for now. 

They exit the building through a side door and Therese takes a deep breath of the frigid air— something about it improves the general scent of the city, probably the cold keeping the rot away. It’s creeping toward the middle of December but there hasn’t been a lick of snow yet, not even much rain. She has been secretly hoping it will snow before Christmas arrives. 

“Still on for drinks with Danny and Phil later?” Rick asks as he secures her duffel to his motorcycle.

“Of course.” Therese says, glad for the reminder. She accepts the spare helmet Rick hands her and slips it on with familiar ease. 

“Pick you up at seven, then?” Rick straddles the bike and puts his own helmet on. 

“Yes.” She’s been on his bike so often it’s like second nature now, and she no longer feels her heart in her throat when they drive (New York traffic helps, she isn’t sure she’d manage a more sustained ride).

“Ready?” Rick asks, voice muffled by his helmet. 

“Ready.” Therese assures, getting on the bike behind him. The rumble of the engine shudders through her whole body, the sound quickly replacing the hum of traffic only a few yards away.

~**~

The studio is quiet when she arrives, and she can see that all of the items she requested were ready and waiting for her. Therese leaves her coat and boots on a rack by the door, and puts her bag down on a wayward folding table. She shrugs into her coveralls and slips on her paint stained shoes, taking in the size of her canvas. 

It is at least ten feet high and fifteen feet long, and is the largest canvas she’ll have painted on since she started her little side business. Abstract and chaotic paintings in various colours, typically painted while listening to music. Therese ties her hair up and tugs on a beanie, heading over to the large canvas to survey the paints and equipment that had been left for her. 

Cans of paint with their colours painted on the lid sit in rows on a tarp by the canvas. Silver, dark green, deep blue, a shock of pink-red, and a smaller can of gold. Mixing trays, implements and brushes with which she will paint sit a little to the right. It makes her grin to see it all. Her phone pings in her pocket and she fishes it out. A text from her boss. 

SHAWN: You can plug your phone into the sound system and cue up the playlist I sent you. Is 3 a good time for me to come by?

She texts him back.

TERRY: Great, thanks! Yes 3 is fine. See you then?

SHAWN: Happy painting :) Can’t wait to see it. 

Therese makes her way over to the sound system, finding the chord quickly and plugging her phone in. She cues up the playlist but doesn’t press play right away, going back to the paint waiting for her. Within ten minutes everything is ready, including her camera which stands on its tripod, far enough away that the whole canvas is in view. Finally she steps over to the window, pulling it open with a little effort and letting the cool hair into the room. She turns on a standing fan as well, and grabs a face mask from her bag before slipping it on and adjusting her beanie over her ears. 

When Therese turns on the music she smiles at the upbeat sound of it, returning with dancing steps to let herself hear the intro of the song— the artist behind the album was a new ambassador for the AIRD brand, and it felt right to have her music be an inspiration for the photoshoot, which is how she ended up getting the opportunity to to this piece. Her art had gotten popular when she started painting to popular songs.

She holds out a hand as she listens, nodding along and snapping on a pair of black nitrile gloves. Therese pauses above the mixing trays she had prepared, and plunges her hand into the deep green paint. She cups it in her palm, and as the music reaches its first drop in beat, she flings the handful of paint at the large canvas in a wide arc, breathing out in satisfaction at the result. 

To say that Therese dances her way through the work would be truthful, free and uninhibited in her movements. Therese is not a dancer by nature, nor would she have ever pursued it— she had elected to take the lessons at the Home but had always been part of the chorus, hidden in a crowd. Now her movements are sure, unchoreographed and playful, befitting the music and the art. 

Throwing, slashing, dripping, smearing, flicking— as the songs move on, one to the next, and eventually come back to the start the large canvas begins to bear and eclectic and chaotic completeness of colour. It doesn’t take long for Therese to be covered in paint splatters, almost as colourful as the canvas, her face spared thanks to the mask she had put on, hair spared thanks to the beanie she is wearing. 

When she takes a break, she pauses the music, giving the first layer a little time to settle. Therese stops the recording on her camera and makes sure its saved, before slipping over to her bag to drink some water and eat a protein bar. She is never disappointed with the art she makes, only surprised— she can never be disappointed with abstracts. It’s all raw feelings. Music stripping the soul bare. 

She’s back at it after giving herself the time to stretch and decompress, moving on to the next set of colours, and donning a fresh pair of nitrile gloves, restarting the music and recording the work anew. Unlike the first layer, whose presence is observable in thick and broad strokes, lines and arcs, the second indulges quicker applications, more impulsivity in placement, thinner and loopier strokes. When she’s finished with it, it’s later than she’d expected. The piece is hardly finished a whole but lunch is looming and another break is needed. 

Therese thumbs in an UBER Eats order and steps out of the studio toward the washroom with a toiletries kit in hand. She tosses the nitrile gloves and face mask into the trash and brushes her hat hair into something obedient before attempting a french braid down the back of her head, it takes her longer than expected, arms already aching from all the reaching she has been doing, but she finally gets it. She wets a cloth with cool water and washes her face, ringing it out as much as she can before replacing it in her bag. 

Her food arrives forty minutes later, which she decides is worth taking the extra walk down the stairs to get, for the sake of movement. When she gets back up to the studio, Shawn is standing a few feet away from the chaos of her work station, in the middle of the room, taking in the current state of the large set piece. 

“I knew you’d deliver.” He says, not even looking at her when he speaks. Therese gives a quiet laugh as she deposits her food on the table with her duffel and steps over to him, admiring the canvas at his side. 

“It isn’t finished yet.” She clears her throat. 

“Tomorrow right?” 

“Yes.” 

“It’s going to look beautiful— it’s already beautiful!” He beams, and Therese can’t help but smile back. Shawn has always made her a little nervous, but in a good way. He always made sure people knew when they were doing great, and when they weren’t. Never beat around a bush you can chain saw through. To have his approval and trust is a relief both in terms of art and photography, since her real job title was junior photographer.

“Thanks, this is a real treat for me. I haven’t done anything this big before.”

“What was the biggest before this?” Shawn asks, finally turning away from the artwork to look at her. 

“Seven by seven feet.” She replies. 

“This set piece is much bigger.” Shawn agrees, laughing as they step over to the table, he pulls out a chair, taking a seat. “Go ahead and eat.” Shawn says when Therese hesitates. She starts unpacking the food. 

“Some of the paint will really catch under the right lighting.” Therese says, finding her fork and digging into the still-warm beef and noodles. 

“Oh I bet, the art department had fun with that. The blue has a nice iridescence and there’s a bit of sparkle to the silver— gonna look incredible when it’s done.” 

They chat while she eats, about the schedule for the shoot on Thursday, how all the preparations are coming together, about everything and nothing, like how it hasn’t snowed yet, and what their holiday plans are. He half invites her to the New Year’s Eve party, she half accepts. It’s superficial and they both know it but it’s not unpleasant. He leaves after forty fives minutes, telling her he’s rapt to see the final piece. She promises it will be finished the next day. 

After another couple hours of work there is nothing more she can do. What she’s completed so far will have the chance to dry overnight. So she packs and closes everything up— leaving the window open just a crack, for a little fresh air. Therese leaves her duffel at the studio, coveralls and paint stained shoes included, and merely takes her camera bag with her as she makes her way from the studio and onto the busy evening streets of New York City. 

~**~

Therese picks at a basket of onion rings at the booth they had reserved at the bar. She’s been nursing her second glass of rosé since Danny arrived, late and had muttered his apologies as he’d slipped in on Therese’s other side. His brother, Phil had been at the bar when she and Rick had arrived, and they’d spent the last hour catching up, picking at appetizers, making light conversation. Phil was curious about Rick’s art, which had gotten a boost of publicity lately thanks to the chalk-art making its way onto the local news. He hadn’t gotten the recognition himself, just his online presence, a distinction he considered quite necessary.

“… they don’t have much respect for the arts.” He says with a laugh, sipping his beer. “Only in what pays the bills.”

“You do some incredible work, Ricky, I think they’d be proud.” Phil argues. But Rick just shakes his head. 

“You dunno his mama.” Therese says amusedly.“Bless her… but what Ricky and I do; art, photography, it’s always been a ‘hobby’ to her.”

Rick slips into a fit of giggles, contagious to bring Phil and Danny along with him. Therese takes another bite of an onion ring. 

“Oh Terry!” Danny says, nudging her as he digs into his bag. “Before I forget.” He pulls a lens case out of his satchel and handing it over to Therese. 

“You fixed it!?” She exclaims, taking the case from him and cradling it over her heart. 

“It was a cinch, it shouldn’t get stuck again.” Danny assures with a smile, and Therese gives him a grin that crinkles her eyes. 

“Thank you so much, Danny. I’ve been missing it.” She puts her hand over the case and slips it into her shoulder bag. 

“I wish Terry would smile like that about our Europe trip.” Ricky laments, leaning his cheek on his hand and pouting at Therese. Phil laughs, and smacks him on the back in a playful show of comfort as Therese meets Rick’s pout with a scrunched up mock-scowl. 

“Art will always be my first love. You know I’d probably spend too much time taking photos of the European architecture to be any fun.” She says light heartedly, and Ricky laughs again. He pulls her in for a hug and presses an affectionate kiss to her temple, freeing her to grab another of the nachos he and Phil are sharing.

“What kept you tonight, Danny?” She nudges his leg with her knee. 

“Brought my sister some groceries after work.” He admits with a smile, and Therese raises a brow and glances at Phil who shakes his head through a mouthful of nachos.

“She’s Danny’s half sister, not related to me.” He explains, hiding his mouth with his hand. 

“Yeah, and she’s pregnant! I’m gonna be an uncle in a month and a half.” Danny beams, and Therese laughs. 

“Nice of you to do that for her.” 

Danny shrugs, grinning. “Need to be in her good graces to have the baby named after me.” 

“Don’t exaggerate Dan—” Phil complains, reaching over and smacking Danny on the head. “All she said was she might make the kid’s middle name Daniel or Danielle.” 

“Is it gonna be a surprise or do they know the sexe?” Rick asks, reorienting the conversation. He takes a sip of his beer. 

“Surprise.” Danny says, motioning at Therese’s basket of onion rings. She nods and he takes one. 

“You’ll spoil that kid either way.” Therese says. 

“Sure will!” Danny says. “Kimmy reached out after our dad died, she wants to know me. It’s nice. We didn’t get to be in each other’s lives as kids, so it’ll be nice to be a part of this chapter for her.”

“A little masculine influence for the kid.” Rick says, and Phil elbows him. 

“You gotta consider Danny masculine for that.” Phil joshes. 

Therese give them both a disapproving look. “Hey— rude!” She chastises. 

“Kids of same sex couples are known to have higher confidence and emotional intelligence.” Danny argues. “I read up on it.”

“I’m just saying it’s good you’ll be in the kids life.” Rick says innocently, raising his hands.

Therese turns to Danny, ignoring Rick. “Kimmy is gay?” She asks. 

“Yeah, been married a few years, but they’ve been together for ages. Lucy is a sweet lady.” He says it with a real earnestness that sobers Therese’s playfulness. 

“That’s nice.” She says.

“Yeah, she’s real happy. It’s contagious.” He takes another onion ring. 

“That’s the best kind of happy.” Therese agrees. 

They settle into conversation about work and school. They brainstorm locations Rick might do his next chalk art, Phil complains about his promotion at the theatre (”Actors! They’re so dramatic.”). Danny doesn’t offer up any news about work, preferring to listen— and visibly more interested when Phil asks about Therese’s work. 

“She’s got this big commission for the AIRD Label.” Rick boasts, smiling at her. 

“I do!” Therese says. “I’m sure it was just a courtesy that I was invited to it, but this social last month was where I got the chance to talk to some more seasoned photographers… fashion photographers…” She goes on. “It’s the biggest canvas I’ve ever painted, and the colours are really beautiful. I’m finishing it tomorrow.” 

“When will we get to see it?” Danny asks.

“Oh I think it’s meant to be the cover for an issue of AIRD Magazine, maybe January or February?” She shrugs. “At least, I get to release my video next week.” 

“Terry records herself while she paints, it’s very popular with her online following.” Rick interjects. 

“I like watching back at myself creating.” Terry says sheepishly. “It almost doesn’t feel like me, ‘cause I’m so… consumed but… also freed?” She laughs, struggling to express the exact feeling. 

“I understand.” Danny agrees. “I think I feel similarly when I’m taking and developing my photographs.” 

“You artists!” Phil exclaims affectionately. “You’re all so emotional.” 

“Do you think I’m an emotional artist, Phillip?” Rick asks, skeptically. 

“Emotionally stunted maybe!” Phil replies, and Danny and Therese dissolve into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments are greatly appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some mild nsfw content in this chapter, but it is brief.

It’s blustery outside by the time they are heading home, but there is still no hint of snow in the sky. Therese flips the collar up on her coat and rewraps her scarf, a few paces behind with Danny as Rick and Phil continue a discussion they’d been having inside. She looks on with amusement as they stumble over each other, both of them drunkenly holding onto each other while Phil guides his bike along the sidewalk. Once she’s managed to tie the scarf she tucks her hands into her pockets and glances over at Danny. 

“You’re not cold?” She asks. His coat is open, and though he’s wearing a sweater, all he has on otherwise is a pair of gloves. 

“No I’m hot blooded.” He says, tugging off a glove and offering a hand. Therese takes it, mouth falling open in surprise.

“No kidding!” She exclaims in amusement, bringing her cold hands together in a fist, that Danny covers with both of his hands, laughing as he does. 

“You should still have a scarf or something.” Therese says matter-of-factly. 

Ricky gives a hoot, drawing their attention. Rick has attempted to ride Phil’s bike like a scooter, but it’s wobbling quite a bit. 

“You’d better wait up!” Danny calls, dropping Therese’s hands. 

“You’d better catch up!” Phil shouts back over his shoulder, chasing after Rick who has gotten a few yards ahead with the bike. 

Therese tucks her hands back into her coat pockets, picking up the pace a little bit. 

“Terry?” Danny says, a certain shyness in his voice. “Can I ask you something?” 

She looks at him again, sees the seriousness in his expression and nods. 

“All of Ricky’s jokes aside, I think you’re a really talented artist.” He starts, rubbing his hand over his neck. “I know we both do photography, so I was wondering if you’d like to work together some time? On a little project? Or just hang out— I’d love to see your work…” 

“I’d like that.” She says, giving him a reassuring smile. 

“Watch out!” Phil yells, and Therese looks over just in time to see Rick fall over into a heap with the bike on top of him. 

“What did I say!” She exclaims, but her tone is more concerned than anything. She and Danny jog over to where Phil is already peeling Rick off the sidewalk. He is, for all intents and purposes, giggling as he is helped up. Therese takes over from Phil. 

“All in one piece?” She asks.

“Drunks’re made of rubber remember?” Rick replies, and Therese rolls her eyes. 

“Should we call him a cab?” Danny offers. 

“No it’s just a few blocks to my place, we’ll be fine.” She unzips her little shoulder bag with one hands and retrieves a simple business card, the background of which resembles much of Therese’s art. She holds it out to Danny. “Give me a call and we’ll talk art.”

“I helped you chose those.” Rick observes as Danny pockets the card. 

“Let’s go, it’s late and I have to finish the set tomorrow.” She starts nudging him back in the right direction. 

“Had a great time with you two tonight!” Phil says, clapping Rick on the back and giving Therese a quick squeeze. 

“Don’t be strangers.” Danny adds, and waves as he and Phil start toward the bus stop around the corner. 

“Happy Holidays— if I don’t see you!” Therese calls with a wave. 

Rick throws an arm over her shoulder, overbearingly cuddly in his drunkenness and presses a kiss to her hair. 

“You’re nice and warm.” He murmurs, and she gives a breath of a laugh, watching the steam of her breath puff out in front of her. 

“Maybe, but my space heater is warmer.” She says. “And you need to focus, or we’ll both fall!” 

“Okay okay! Space heated, bed. I am so focused.” 

And for the most part, he is.

~**~

With the space heater on and wool curtains drawn over the two windows in her apartment, the space is almost warm enough for local heating standards. She still wears a cardigan over her long sleeved and long pants pajamas, and wears thick knit socks to keep her feet warm. Rick was in luck, having left a pair of sweats and a hoodie at her apartment the last time he’d slept over. He hadn’t put the hoodie on, opting instead for the t-shirt he’d had on under his button down.

He stands behind her now, while she makes them both some tea at the counter, arms around her middle in a backwards embrace that involves his hips pressing into her backside, and him nuzzling her neck. 

“I’m going to spill the tea.” Therese complains, putting her hands over his on her waist. 

“Tea isn’t necessary.” He mumbles, kissing at the skin of her shoulder and neck where her cardigan had fallen aside. 

“It so is.” Therese argues lightly, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. “You’re going to have a hangover.” 

“Terry…” He says and she accepts a kiss to her mouth, letting it linger in all its searching and wanton calibre. Rick slips his hand under her shirt, making her shiver— his hands are cold— and muscles jump the whole trip his hand takes from her navel to the curve of her left breast. “Can we?” He asks, and she gives a slight gasp when he squeezes her breast, her heart jumping in her chest at the feeling of him half hard against her behind.

Therese brings her hand up over his, dragging it down and away slowly. “It’s late.” She says, turning her head away from his mouth. “Too much alcohol— it won’t be nice. I have to be at the studio early… It’s late already.” 

Rick gives a small sound of disappointment, removing his hand from under her shirt. He still leans on her, though with less adamance, his arm around her in a half-hearted embrace. He kisses her hair again, nuzzling at her temple, and sighing. 

“Is the tea ready?” He asks, and Therese nods, taking out a spoon to stir both of the mugs after she removes the bags. “You put the honey in it?” 

“Just the way you like it.” She assures, handing him his mug, the expression on her face is almost apologetic. 

“Two years right?” He asks and the question throws her off. 

“What?” 

“We’ve been together for two years.” He elaborates, taking a sip of his tea, and Therese’s cheeks burn. 

“Yeah.” 

“And we’ve only slept together twice.”

“Three times.” Therese corrects, too quickly, hiding her grimace behind her mug, thankful for the semi darkness.

“The last one doesn’t count.” Rick says defeatedly.

“Sure it does.” Of course it counted. “You were inside me.” 

Rick rubs a hand over his eyes. “But you said it hurt and we had to stop.” 

“We continued… we still… you still came.” 

“But I’ve… you’ve never.” Rick sighs again, staring at the steam coming off his tea.

“No.” Therese agrees. 

“I want to be able to please you, Terry.” He looks at her with a heartbroken expression on his face. She is reminded momentarily of something Phil had said at the bar, emotional artists. Rick was always at his most sincere when he drank, and always at the most inconvenient times. “We can’t learn each other if we don’t try.” 

“I know.” Therese replies, blowing gently on her tea. “But not right now.” 

“I mean in general.” He says. “You already said no to tonight.”

“Doesn’t mama have some modern-Catholic idea about being chaste before marriage.” Therese says, the words land flatly, pessimistically.

“We’re not engaged.” There is a clearly missing ‘yet’ that Therese is glad he leaves unsaid.

“She brings up something related to weddings every time I visit.” Therese says with mock-pain in her voice, trying to lighten the seriousness of the conversation. 

“That’s not what we were talking about.” Rick says, calling her out. Therese sighs. 

“I said it’s too late to have sex, so it’s definitely too late to have a conversation it.”

“Alright, alright.” Rick finishes his tea in two gulps, rinsing the mug and filling it half way before taking an aspirin. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t finish her tea, but takes a final mouthful before rinsing her own mug and leaving it in the dish rack to dry. Rick has already wandered over to the bed, tucking his legs under the covers and turning them down for her.

“You know I love you, right Terry?” He says as he pulls on his hoodie. 

“Of course I do.” Therese switches off the light before she joins him. When she finally lies down she adjusts the layers of blankets, pulling them up to her shoulders.

“I just want things to be good for us.” He murmurs, rubbing a hand over her side above the duvet.

“They are good.” She says. “Get some sleep.”

“G’night.” 

“Goodnight.”

And in silence she waits. Twenty minutes later his hand slips from her side, his breathing slows and his familiar soft snore reaches her ears. Only then does she allow herself to find comfort in her pillow and drift into a dream that has her yearning for the brilliant paint, waiting for her at the studio, coming alive under her hand.

~**~

Therese finds herself starting at the little crack of light breaking into the room past the wool curtains. She can hear the hum and click of her space heater, the hum of traffic, and the coo of pigeons on her fire escape. But most of all she can hear Rick’s soft snores beside her. For a few moments before wakefulness had washed over her like an intrusive bucket of ice water, she had been comfortable under the covers with Rick sleeping beside her. Her mornings usual start with the shivers of a poorly heated apartment, but once she’d really woken up the warmth was too much, clinging, damp.

She takes a deep breath, but the discomfort has already spread through her like a sickness. Therese throws the blankets off of her, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and finger-combing her hair out of her face. She shivers, and takes another deep breath, looking over her shoulder at Rick, who hasn’t stirred at all. Therese straightens out the covers and stands, making her way to the her dresser where she grabs some clothes before slipping into the washroom and shutting the door behind her. 

A shower strips away at the icky feeling she’d woken up with. Therese ties up her hair and hides it under a beanie, dressing and slipping out of the washroom not twenty minutes after she’d left her bed. She makes no effort to wake Rick, stepping around the apartment with skilled quiet, packing her bag, and donning her coat and scarf. She leaves him a note on the counter before she leave; a morning greeting, a request that he make the bed, an offer of any of her breakfast foods, a reassurance that the door would lock on its own when he left, and a final “call me later”. 

While she sits on the small bench by her front door slipping on her shoes, Rick stirs and Therese freezes. She breathes slowly and quietly as he gives a tired groan but makes no further move, and shows no further signs of waking. It takes a few seconds for her to wrangle the thoughts bustling around her head like errant flies— such visceral reactions to the possibility to Rick waking up are irrational. She has to justify her want to leave, or the guilt might creep up on her and swallow her whole. He isn’t bad, she has to tell herself. His wanting you isn’t bad.

The cold morning is invigorating, and Therese chooses to walk the distance from her apartment to the café near the studio. Where the warmth of a shared bed had made her skin crawl, the warmth of the café is inviting, especially the aromas of pastries and coffee. Therese orders herself a tea and a breakfast sandwich and finds herself a seat. She opens her laptop and slips her camera’s SIM card into its dock, eager to have a look at the footage she had captured the day before while working on the set. 

All negative thoughts evaporate from her mind as she slips into her work. Therese rewatches dozens of minutes of footage before she begins editing; colour adjustments, lighting, speed. There is a certain catharsis in witnessing her own joy, her own process of creation, captured on camera. It enlivens her spirits and makes her feel eager to finish the set. 

“Your order.” A waitress deposits Therese’s tea on the table, with the breakfast sandwich on a plate next to it. 

“Thank you.” Therese says, and watches her head back to the counter. She picks up the tea, holding the round mug between both hands as she looks back at her laptop screen, fingers and palms warmed by the ceramics. She blows gently on the tea, and takes a tentative sip. It’s too hot. She puts it down, feeling the loss of warmth on her hands, and wonders idly if that’s how she’s supposed to feel when Rick stops touching her.

~**~

Outside the studio Therese takes a moment to herself. She fishes out a leather case out of her bag, a little smaller than that of a glasses case and opens it. With familiarity, Therese twists a vial of her preferred vaporizing liquid onto the pen, and turns it on and sets the temperature. A minute later the button changes colour and she brings the pen to her lips and takes a pull. She leans her head back and exhales an earthy, lightly eucalyptus scented cloud— something akin to an herbal tea. Nothing performative like cupcake scented or chocolate or gummy candy. The vaporizer pen looks like the other regular pens used by the people replacing a smoking habit or who find the clouds entertaining. No one would assume she’s actually medicating. 

The wind picks up and makes her shiver, but her head isn’t in the right place to go inside just yet. Doesn’t wan the uneasy feeling lingering over her to bleed into her painting. And so she stands with her back to the bricks, watching traffic and pedestrians and feels herself really calming down after a few pulls from her pen. The liquid is largely non-psychoactive, meant for reduction of anxiety and body pain. The relief, Therese notices, lifts the ghost of a hangover from her temples and forehead. She takes a final pull and blows out a vapor cloud, coming to the conclusion that all of her malaise this morning could be attributed to the alcohol.

She swipes her ID card pulls the outer door open, disassembling the vaporizer pen and slipping each part back into its case as she makes her way down the hall. Once inside Therese makes quick work of changing into her coveralls and paint stained shoes, opening the window, setting up her camera, removing the lids from the cans of paint, and slipping on her nitrile gloves and face mask. The last thing she does is plug her phone into the sound system again, and cues up the same album as the day before. Today the set would be finished, and today meant the brighter colours out of the collection she’d been given. 

For the first time this morning, Therese smiles, feeling the fabric of her face mask brush her cheek in a way that’s somewhere between soft and scratchy. She finds herself grinning and she eyes the paints, letting the music waft through the room, letting it chose what colour the painting needs next. Therese gives a contented sigh, looking down at the rich pink-red waiting for her, and feeling a little thrill of excitement as she prepares to add it to the earthy greens and scattered blues already alive on the canvas. 

With a thick dripping brush in hand, and a spray bottle tucked into the coveralls deep pocket, Therese makes her first move, an arching stroke that drips from its most concentrated origins. Therese goes on, taking the spray bottle and spraying the water over the stroke, watching it bleed and interact with the colours that came before it, watching it drip, watching it come alive. And she repeats, paint, spray, watch. Until the deep pink-red joins the canvas like blooming petals, and she’s able to visualize what exactly her next steps will be with the final two colours. 

During her break, while she eats a chocolate protein bar, her phone rings. For a moment she thinks it will be Rick, but when she skips over to the sound system, and unplugs her phone from it, there is no caller ID on the screen. 

“Hello?.” She greets, putting the phone in speaker. 

“Morning Terry, it’s Daniel McNamara.” 

Therese breathes a laugh. “Morning, Danny.” 

“How are you doing after drinks last night?” He asks, he sounds like he’s walking outside, she can hear the traffic. 

“Oh I never drink much, but I felt a little gross this morning. It passed though.” 

“And Ricky?” 

Therese laughs. “He’s fine, made him drink some tea before we went to bed. He was still sleeping when I left this morning.” 

“Are you at the studio?” 

“Yes, just finished adding this beautiful dark pink. I’m letting it dry a bit before I add the last two colours.” 

“I don’t think you mentioned what colours you were using. Now I’m dead curious.” Danny laughs. 

“Hold on a second.” She replies, clicking out of the call and going to her camera. Therese is just far away enough to capture the whole canvas without sacrificing clarity, and takes a picture, equipment included. She sends it to Danny. “Check your messages, I sent you a photo.” 

She can hear him handling the phone, and after a few seconds he gives a low whistle. 

“Wow— that’s… wow.” 

Therese laughs again, a real belly laugh. 

“How do you make the colours bleed together like that?” He asks. 

“Water in a spray bottle.” 

“Clever.” 

“I’ll show you in person sometime, I have a little painting nook in my apartment.” Therese smiles, thinking of how she could fit another chair or two into her living space if she hadn’t dedicated that space to her art, and yet how she doesn’t care for hosting more guests at one time than her couch and kitchen table can accommodate.

“Let’s arrange something, then. I’ll text you later with my schedule and we’ll see what fits.” A car honks somewhere in the distance behind him. 

“That sounds great. I have to get back to work.” 

A gust of wind muffles Danny’s end of the phone. “I won’t keep you, good luck with the set.” 

“I will, thanks.”

“Bye.”

She takes her phone with her as she slips out of the studio for a bathroom break. By the time she is washing her hands and trying to scrub a smudge of paint off her cheek with scratchy paper towel it rings again. With drippy hands, she considers ignoring it— if it is important her voice mail asks for a text or a detailed voice message. Therese dries her hands on another sheet of scratchy paper towel and takes out her phone again as she makes her way back to the studio. It was Rick. She’s about to text him when the screen lights up with another incoming call from him. She answers.

“Morning.” She greets. 

“Hey, Tee. You slipped out pretty early huh?” She can tell he’s in the stairwell of her apartment, a familiar echo. 

“Yeah, I wanted to get a head start on the set, so it has enough time to dry.” The studio door slams a little behind her. “You’re not too hungover are you?” 

“No.” Rick replies. “Thanks for the tea last night— I made some more and made myself some eggs. You’ve got two left.” 

“Thanks for letting me know… You have class today right?” Therese picks up around the work space, putting the big brush and other tools she’d used on the pink paint into a bucket of water to soak. 

“Gotta get some stuff at home first, but yeah— class from two til nine tonight.” 

“Long one. At least it’s not just lectures.” 

Rick laughs. “I’d really fall asleep if it were just lectures.” 

“I’ve gotta get back to work. Have a good day— and send my love to mama?” 

“I will. Text you later. Love you.” 

“Text you later. Bye.” She hangs up. 

Therese plugs her phone back into the sound system, but just for the sake of charging it. She doesn’t need anymore music. She puts on a fresh pair of gloves and face mask, and pries the lids of the gold and silver cans of paint. She looks over her large array of brushes and tools, and chooses none of them. Instead she opts for a wayward strip of chord, that had been part of the packaging of brand-new set of brushes she had been provided. It is long, thick and flexible enough to serve the purpose she needs. Once the gold paint is poured into a tray, Therese dips the chord into it and presses it strategically onto her canvas, utterly pleased with the result. 

The final additions of paint bring to life the vague abstraction of flowers. The gold paint, bled and reapplied, give the impression stamen, some more chaotic than others— some placed with precision, others whipped onto the canvas. And the silver. Hints of pollen, carefully splattered, bled and splattered again, with a dry brushes of several sizes. All it needed now was to dry, and the fan would help speed up that process. 

Therese takes her time tidying the space. She knows that it isn’t her job, but for her. The process was just as vital, for artistic closure. She packs up her things, closes the window (leaving it open just a crack), and turns off the lights, wholly satisfied with her work, and knowing there would be more work of a different kind to do tomorrow. With a final glance around the space, Therese is sure she hasn’t forgotten anything, and closes the door on the finished set, eager to see its full potential the next day for the photoshoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated.  
> I am in the middle of midterms so Chapter 03 may take some extra time.


	3. Chapter 3

Therese arrives at the studio the next morning with a little dance in her step. She’d put a little makeup on, limiting herself to tinted moisturizer, brows, and tinted lip balm. More than that got distracting, especially because her work was active enough that she’d end up smudging it somehow. Her hair had looked sleek when she left the house, secured with a bun-maker that Ricky thought made her look like a ballerina— the wind has loosed some slack, curly wisps of her hair on her way in, but it still looked good with the black pants and button down she was required to wear as dress code.

She enters the studio with a blonde woman ahead of her. She is wearing a long wool coat down to her mid calves and attractive leather ankle-height boots. Her hair is naturally curly and bounces as she walks, and Therese can’t help but watch her as she does, turning down a different hallway than Therese— toward the dressing rooms. Therese ducks into the employee coat room, taking a hanger and shoving her scarf into her sleeve before hanging up her coat. She takes her camera bag with her, fiddling with the laminated label she had secured to the handle. 

A security guards stands in the hall, and Therese holds up her credentials to him before clipping them to one of her belt loops. In the studio people are already setting up lights, and fans and the rest of the set pieces. She notices Shawn speaking to someone, and takes a moment to sign in, leaning over the table and scrawling out her signature next to her name on the list. Therese stands aside and takes out her camera to fit a lens on it. She has just felt it click into place when Shawn calls her name and beckons her over. 

“… so absolutely moved by the set, I am so lucky to have found her among our junior photography team.” She hears him say as she approaches. 

Shawn opens his arms, and she accepts a one-armed hug from him, and shakes hands with the executive he had been speaking to. A woman of average height in a blazer and blouse, model beautiful, with a seasoned look to her. 

“Your set is amazing.” The woman says, and excuses herself before Therese can even say ‘thank you’. 

“I am blown away, Terry!” Shawn exclaims, motioning at the large canvas that makes up the backdrop for the shoot. Some furniture and props have been set up already. 

“I’m glad you like it.” 

“Everyone loves it.” He implores. “You went above and beyond sweetie.” 

“It’s exciting.” She admits. “To have my name on something with this kind of pull.” 

“You deserve it— I’ve gotta skedaddle, I won’t keep you.” He blows her an air kiss before skipping off somewhere else in the studio. 

There is barely a moment to breathe before Therese joins her colleagues in setting up. She works with the crew establishing where which lights need to be, and with a little coordinating, softbox, spotlight, and umbrella lights, all find their homes on the floor of the studio. Therese takes a moment standing just beyond where the head photographer will be working, and makes adjustments to her camera to accommodate for the lighting, using the already hung up neutral grey card to balance her exposure. 

As if on cue, all non essential personnel leave the studio, and the wardrobe staff file in with racks of clothes and cases of accessories. They set up at the back of the studio space, which already has a standing changing screen set up for the musician, Genevieve Logan, who will grace the cover of AIRD magazine in the new year. She hasn’t arrived yet, but there’s already a buzz among the more senior staff that she doesn’t quite grasp. 

Not until she sees the blonde haired woman again. Now free of her winter apparel, and unlike the rest of the staff, she isn’t wearing all black. Her long sleeve high neck-line shirt is blue and her trousers are some combination of greys and green which suit her wonderfully. Before she can ask any of her colleagues about the excited energy, she is called over by one of the senior photographers. 

~**~  


By the time the Genevieve Logan arrives the number of staff has been reduced by half. Minimal personnel. Therese considers herself lucky to be among the few who have been allowed stay. To work. She is capturing the behind the scenes, which would be included on the magazine’s website in a separate exposé. So far she has gotten quite a few quality shots, of their lovely auburn-haired subject getting some makeup applied, and of her posing playfully with the photographer after she came out in the first outfit. Candid and content shots. But her favourite is of the Genevieve’s reaction to the set. An awed smile, captured moments after she had entered the studio. 

Therese feels like a ghost as she moves through the space, among the lights and the equipment and the staff. An atypical presence. Like stage-ninjas in some theatre productions who becomes part of the set as they manipulate it for the actors. She feels like part of the set, and is in the sense that her art is being used, both lending and capturing the unstructured aspects of a very structured process. 

She finds herself near the costumes, going through some of her shots on the small screen on her camera. Already, Therese can guess which of the photographs would be taken for the behind the scenes exposé, and is eager nonetheless to keep her RAW files for her portfolio. Therese brings the camera up to her eyes, looking through the lens and panning across the space until she finds something interesting. That ends up being the blonde woman. Her expression is tight and there is a frown between her light eyes and a pin between her lips. 

The dress she is adjusting is complimentary to the colours in the background Therese had created. 

“God Damn it.” The woman says, just as Therese snaps a photo. Therese lowers the camera, watching now, as the woman moves her right hand into view. She is wearing a brace. The woman clutches her wrist for a few seconds and takes a deep breath, jaw clenched. 

“Are you alright?” Therese says, letting her camera hang around her neck as she steps over to where the woman is kneeling. She seems startled, as if such a questions were rare words to reach her ears. 

“Yes.” She says. A half truth. 

“Can I help?” 

The woman looks skeptical but amused. 

“Can you sew?”

Therese nods. “Enough to mend my own clothes.”

The woman smiles, and it reaches her eyes. Therese smiles back. 

“Alright.” 

She moves over, and Therese puts her camera on the table behind them, before kneeling next to the woman. 

“What’s your name?” The woman asks, as Therese takes the needle from her. 

“Terry.” She replies. 

“I need a ladder stitch, here—” she places her finger on the fabric. “Can you do that?” 

“Yes.” Therese works slowly, carefully. “What’s your name?” She asks, realizing she didn’t know. 

“Carol.” 

Therese is quiet for a moment, and feels Carol’s gaze on her as she works the needle through the fabric. 

“That’s enough, thank you.” Carol says finally. 

“Will you be able to tie it off?” Therese asks, and Carol nods. 

“Yes, you’ve been a big help.”

Therese stands, making sure Carol has the needle in hand before moving back to the table to collect her camera.

“Taken it easy.” She says, making a motion with her right hand. Carol nods. 

Therese watches Genevieve emerge from behind the changing screen in the next outfit, and she lifts her camera, taking a picture of her as the musician glides— yes glides— toward the set once again. She still feels Carol’s eyes on her as she does it. 

“Have fun.” She hears Carol say. “That set shoots well from any angle. 

Therese looks back over her shoulder, shooting her a grin. “Thanks.” She says and walks away, heading to a better position to capture the head photographer’s interactions with Genevieve, oblivious to the curious frown she’d put on Carol’s face.

~**~

They eventually take a lunch break, and Therese is thankful for it. She finds a table far away from everyone else and props her feet up on a folding chair picking at the plate of finger food she’d served herself from the catering table. She is quite glad for the break, forty five minutes, to gather her bearings. Because Shawn had told her he’d be introducing her to Genevieve and the Fashion Director of the label, it had given her anxious butterflies. 

There are only a few more outfits and set changes— a few props removed and some added before they would be done for the day. Every single one of them had been exquisite and Therese had felt a little proud to see the very piece she’d stuck a needle in on Genevieve for the third outfit. It photographed wonderfully against her set, the colours bouncing off the shiny fabric. The photos would look amazing in post. 

She has been watching the other staff eat and mingle, and step out to use th washroom, and her gaze has fallen to her colleagues on the junior team, to Shawn darting around, to Genevieve, and to Carol to must be a seamstress for all the work and discussions she seems to be having with the other staff with measuring tapes around their necks and pin cushion bracelets on their wrists. 

It’s only when Shawn and Carol and Genevieve come together that Therese gets particularly curious. She sips the tea she’d left on the table next to her to cool while she ate, watching their conversation. Shawn says something, about the set, and Genevieve looks positively delighted. Carol’s expression is more sober, but there is an amused smile on her lips. Shawn looks around the space, a hand over his eyes until he finds Therese and beckons her over. 

She feels her cheeks flush as she stands, autopilot, and walks over to them. 

“Mis Aird, Miss Logan, this is Terry Belivet, the genius behind our beautiful set.” Shawn says, milking the praise as much as he can. 

Therese is fully pink cheeked and switches her tea to her left hand before shaking hands with Genevieve.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She says, sharing an amused look with Carol as she shakes her braced hand carefully. 

“I am positively in love with your work.” Genevieve says, and Shawn pats her shoulder and excuses himself.

“Thank you. You know the process right?” 

“Yes! You listened to my album while you painted?” She is all smiles. 

Therese nods, glancing at carol who is watching them both with calm intrigue. “Yes on repeat.” 

“That’s incredible. It’s really so beautiful.” 

“I’m glad you like it. It’s been an incredible opportunity.” Therese smiles, hoping not to drown in praise and attention. 

“And I’m just so lucky that Shawn found you. I don’t think this would have been as fun without your work.” Genevieve gives her a quick hug, just as an aid arrives at her side. 

“We’re ready for you Gen.” 

Genevieve turns to Therese and Carol. “I’ve got to get back, see you soon.” She gives a wave and dances back over to the makeup table. 

Therese glances at Carol with a mirthful smile, and it met with a similar expression. 

“You didn’t mention you were the AIRD Fashion Director.” Therese says. “I noticed the other staff seemed excited..? When you came in with the wardrobe, but I didn’t realize…” 

“And you didn’t mention that you were the set artist I’ve been hearing about all morning.” Carol replies. 

“I guess it didn’t come up.” Therese adds with a grin.

“I guess not.” She looks over at the set through the forest of lights. “Genevieve said it already, but it is a beautiful piece.” 

“Thank you. It’s the biggest canvas I’ve done to date.” 

“I hope it was a positive experience.” She seems serious about that statement.

“Oh absolutely!” Therese lights up. “I had a lot of fun, and may have fallen a little bit in love with large canvases.” She laughs, and watches Carol’s calm smile reach her eyes. 

“Good. Keep that passion.” 

Therese nods. “I don’t see it waning any time soon.”

Carol’s smile fades just a titch around the eyes, but it still plays at her lips. 

“No one really does.” She says, and Therese can tell that her words come from experience. She can’t ask her about it though, because a bell trills, signaling the end of the break, and the recommencement of the shoot. 

“It was nice to meet you.” Carol says, giving Therese’s arm a little squeeze. 

“You too.” She replies, and watches her make her way over to racks of outfits once again. 

~**~

She will be leaving this photoshoot with more makeup on than she left her apartment with this morning. No one had prepared her for this, it was an impromptu artistic conspiracy between the head photographer and Shawn: have the set artist and the Fashion Director join Genevieve on the set for a few shots. She had been given a ten minute warning. Shawn had told her to put her camera away and go over to makeup, whom he’d apparently warned sooner than he’d warned her because they were expecting her. 

“He doesn’t want us to mess with her hair.” Says one makeup artist, taking Therese’s chin between her finger and thumb and giving her a once over. 

“Her hair is cute.” Says another, coming over with a palette of makeup. 

“Don’t worry honey, this is just makeup for the camera, we’re gonna keep the natural look.” 

It doesn’t feel very natural when they’re done, but she has to admit that the result is quite attractive. It’s a challenge not to touch her face as Shawn comes over and escorts her over to wardrobe. 

“You won’t have to change, but I think I want to give you a statement necklace and maybe some earrings…” 

“Okay.” Therese manages to say, and finds Carol in the bustle of people a few yards away. She is in a different outfit— now a striking sleeveless blouse that she can see complements Genevieve’s last outfit. Carol is taking her wrist brace off as the wardrobe team fits her with bangles and a other jewelry. 

“I like this.” Shawn says, pulling out a busy necklace full of different sized pale blue-toned moonstone beads. 

“Wow.” Therese breathes, and holds still as he puts it on her and adjust her collar. 

“You have three lobe piercings right?” He asks and Therese nods. “I’m gonna give you some matching earrings for this okay, I’ll give you a baggy for the… hang on…” He looks at Therese’s ears. 

“That’s clever.” He says noticing that she has one small hoop through the first two piercings. “Those are silver, you can keep those one, but we’ll change out the last one…” 

She gets a matching pair of silver coated moonstone studs to replace her tiny silver hexagon shaped ones which a wardrobe staff puts aside for her. Therese manages to keep her own nerves at bay as the wardrobe staff take a lint roller and a steamer to her shirt and pants by watching Carol’s own wardrobe develop. The blouse has a plunging neckline, but a crystal and gold necklace draws the attention up, and Therese can see a smattering of freckles on Carol’s skin. She tries to count them, and noticed one on her neck behind her ear as she is fitted with bulky earrings the same shape as the necklace but larger.

Finally, as if the anticipation wasn’t leaving her stomach dancing with nerves already, they are invited onto the set. The photographer has Therese and Carol stand with Genevieve, telling them to “pivot your left” or “lift your chin” or “try hooking your thumb in your belt loop”. Genevieve makes the ordeal much easier, she has a quick wit and gets along well with the photographer, and both of them are able to melt away Therese’s nerves, and make her smile. Which much like her tastes, seems to be what the photographer likes. She finds it easier to take direction when they change the poses up, and Carol’s hand finds its way to the small of her back with Genevieve sitting staggered in front and between them. 

The fifteen minutes they’re on the set feels like much longer, and yet like no time at all. Because almost as quickly as she was put into the jewelry, she’s helped with removing it and her own earrings are returned to her. She finds herself distracted as the shoot comes to a conclusion. There is a small speech by Genevieve, and some applause, but her mind is elsewhere while she helps strike the set. Personnel leave as their departments finish their own packing up, and eventually it’s just the lighting crew and the photography teams. 

Therese packs up her camera, and signs out, and upon noticing the line for the coat room, decides the bathroom should be her first stop rather than waiting. The bathroom is remarkably empty, and yet from within the stall the familiar sound of a phone vibrating reaches her ears. 

“Hello?” She says, wondering if she hadn’t noticed someone in one of the large bathroom’s many stalls. The vibrating continues. Just as she’s leaving her stall it stops. Therese washes her hands quickly, and just as she’s drying them, the vibrating starts back up. She follows the sound down the length of the dark gray counter and finds the phone sitting in the pot of a fake plant, half-hidden by colourful foliage. 

The caller ID reads HARGESS FOSTER. 

“Hello—” Therese answers. 

“Who is this?” Is the man’s harsh response.

“Oh— sorry someone left their phone in the washroom. I just found it.” 

She hears a string of muffled curses, picking out a few choice words, “fucking figures” and “goddamn unreliable.”

“Excuse me.” Therese interjects. “Hello?” 

“Yes, what?” 

“Whose phone have I found? Do you have another way to contact them?” 

She hears an impatient sigh. “Carol Aird’s phone.” He says with an edge of distaste in his tone. 

“Oh. She might still be on the premises I’ll see if I can find her.” 

“And you are?” 

“I’m a member of the junior photography team. I was working the same photoshoot as her.” 

“Tell her to call me back if you find her.” He hangs up. 

Therese scowls at the phone, taking it and her camera bag with her as she steps out of the washroom. She heads back down the hall toward the coat room and finds one of the seamstresses. 

“Hey, do you know if Mis Aird is still here?” Therese asks. 

“No she left like forty minutes ago ago.” The woman replies. 

“Okay, thanks.” Therese smiles. 

“Love you set by the way!” She seamstress says as Therese turns.

“Thanks.” She replies and heads gets in the make-shift line the staff had made to get into the coat room. 

She’s out of the studio within twenty minutes, and the evening is just starting to darken, and the sun is low and orange in the sky. In a moment of impulse she stops and takes a selfie while she’s in the light, wanting to document her makeup. Just as she slips her phone back into her pocket, Carol’s phone rings. Therese fishes it out of her pocket, hoping it isn’t that Foster man again, and is relieved to see that the Caller ID reads ABBY GERHARDT. 

“Hello—” Therese answers. 

“Thank goodness.” She hears Carol on the other.

“I was hoping you’d call.” Therese smiles. “I found your phone in the washroom at the studio.” 

“Is that Terry?” Carol asks. 

“Yes that’s right.” 

“How could you possibly know that it was my phone?” She asks, but Therese can hear that she’s smiling. She can hear the sound of a voice in the background, a soft and young voice ‘what’s so funny mommy?’ and an older woman shushing her gently ‘mommy is on the phone.’

“It was ringing… Something Foster.” 

Carol gives an annoyed huff. “He wasn’t rude was he?” 

“A bit curt maybe. He says he’d like you to call him.” 

Carol laughs a little darkly. “I bet he would.” She sighs. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“No, just— no I’m not busy.” 

“I’ll be in the area for a meeting tomorrow morning.” Carol begins. “Why don’t we meet for lunch so I can get my phone back. My treat.”

Therese feels her cheeks redden. “Sure. Alright.” 

“How’s noon thirty?” Carols asks, and offers a few restaurant names. 

“Oh I don’t know any of those.” Therese laughs. “You pick. I’ll be there.” 

“Julien's then— how about you give me your phone number? I can message you the address from my tablet.” 

“Alright.”

Therese gives Carol her phone number and turns off the phone. They say goodbye, and within five minutes she’s got a text with an address. She had had plans for herself the next day, but she can’t deny that lunch with Carol Aird sounds much more interesting than cleaning her studio space— which was far less pressing than returning the AIRD Fashion Director’s cell phone in a timely manner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you liked, comments are always appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Therese thinks about that wrist brace during the night, the one Carol wore when they met, the one she took off when they became part of the photoshoot. It limited her ability to twist her wrist which was why she was having trouble with the ladder stitch, the angle was funny. She thinks about it because Carol had not hidden it while she worked, but she had taken it off to be photographed— something that would be distributed to far more people that those in the studio that day. From there Therese is pulled into the stark realization that her own face would be seen by thousands of people if those photographs ended up in the magazine. Even if they made it to the exposé on the company website, her name and her business— _her art_ , would be gaining a lot more traction. 

Despite a buzzing head and an excitement she can’t quite place, she sleeps well. The days creeping toward Christmas are getting steadily closer, and while she drinks her morning tea and nibbles at some breakfast, she checks to see if any snow is in the weather forecast. None yet. And perhaps a little rain, but the chance was only 10%. Partly cloudy in New York City the week before Christmas. Days now, she realizes. Rick had been dropping hints that his mother wanted to have her over for dinner, but she hadn’t indulged him— she won’t bring it up. If it’s important to him she assumes he will ask properly instead of beating around the bush. 

Her plans had been to tidy her workspace, triage the finished and unfinished pieces, and take stock of what supplies she still has. She couldn’t do all that now, it was a job that required a few hours and messying her apartment for the next two or three days. It wouldn’t feel right to get too invested in it only to leave it. What she can do is begin the process of triaging to make it easier for herself the next day. Which she does by unfolding her large fabric tarp and letting it sit on her floor like a paint-stained carpet as she lays out all her artwork by size. She could organize by colour later. The work is enough to steal the time away until she needs to start getting ready. 

After a shower, Therese finds herself pondering her closet. She had not checked to see if Julien’s was a restaurant one should dress for, and it had not occurred to her that this lunch was something she _should_ dress for, but suddenly she feels compelled to make an effort. She ends up choosing a pair of tweed trousers and a long sleeve black shirt with a high neckline. She adds a splash of colour in the form of a forest green leather belt and a soft cream coloured scarf with a large purply-red floral design with the same rich green on the leaves. 

She does her makeup, the same thing she did the day before when she’d left for the photoshoot. Simple. Enough. Pretty. She decides to wear her hair down but sticks a hair tie in her bag for safe keeping. Inside her bag she keeps her essentials; some cash, her bank cards and ID, her phone, a small comb, a pack of gum and her vaporizer in its case, a travel bottle of over-the-counter painkillers, a tinted lip balm, ear buds, and a spare charging cord. And today, of course, Carol’s phone, which she had charged the night before to return it in better condition than it had left her possession.

Therese feels the same nervous excitement she had felt after Carol had made the date, and hopes that for whatever kind of restaurant Carol had suggested, she is appropriately dressed. With her coat and scarf on, she slips on her block heel ankle boots, zipping them up before slipping out the door and down the echoey stairs, with the hopes that a cab will be nearby.

~**~

Therese takes a pull from her vaporizer pen, glancing at her phone to see the time. It’s already a quarter past noon and she had received a text from Carol ten minutes earlier. She would be late. Therese felt very awkward going inside the restaurant alone, and despite the cold takes a few minutes to calm her nervous energy to take some calming pulls from her pen. The wind has picked up though and her cloudy exhalations are being blown away before she’s even finished breathing. One sharp gust of wind leaves Therese’s eyes stinging and tearing up, and she has to call it as a tear drips down her cheek. Therese steps into the doorway of the restaurant and puts her vaporizer away, pushing the door open. 

“Hi do you have a reservation?” A hostess greets as Therese steps inside. 

“Oh I don’t think so.” Therese replies. 

“Alright, how many will you be?” 

“Just two… my friend should be here soon.” 

“Okay— would you like a table or a booth?” She motions for Therese to follow her and they make their way into the heart of the restaurant. 

“A booth, please.” 

The hostess shows her to a booth, and Therese can see that the restaurant is largely empty. 

“Here you go, a waiter will be with you shortly.” 

“Thank you.” Therese says and the hostess smiles before making her way back to the front. 

Therese takes off her scarf and sticks it into the sleeve of her coat before slipping it onto the hook built into the booth. She slips in and places her bag next to her. Therese checks her phone idly and sees that it’s creeping past noon twenty. A waiter arrives and places two glasses of water on the table, pretty paper placemats and cutlery to their spots. 

“Thank you.” She says. 

“Can I get you anything while you wait?” He asks. 

“A ginger ale— please.” 

“Coming right up.” 

Therese is about to look at her phone again when she feels a hand on her shoulder. She gives a little start. 

“I’m sorry.” Carol says, smiling. She is rosy-cheeked from the wind, and any anxiety Therese may have been feeling washes away. 

“No worries.” She replies, gaze drawn to the lovely shade of lipstick Carol is wearing, a dark blush. “I’m glad you made it.” 

“Thank you for waiting.” Carol shrugs out of her coat, slipping her own scarf into the sleeve and hanging it up before joining Therese in the booth. She is wearing a maroon sweater that looks comfortably baggy, with sleeves long enough to cover some of her palm. Therese can see the grey and black wrist brace peeking out just a little.

“I wouldn’t hold your phone hostage.” Therese laughs, and reaches for her bag, taking Carol’s phone out and handing it to her across the table. 

“Thank you— taking calls on a tablet is awkward at best.” She slips it into her coat’s pocket, clasping her hands and placing them on the table. Carol fixes Therese with a look intense enough to leave her blushing. 

“You don’t like being at the center of attention do you?”

Therese almost laughs. “I don’t. Why?”

“You introduced yourself as ‘Terry’.” There is a layer of conspiracy to her tone. 

“That is what everyone calls me at work.” Therese replies. 

“I looked up your website.” Carol explains. “You have your full name there. Therese Belivet.” 

She says _Terez_ — a pronunciation she had played with briefly but abandoned. 

“ _Therese_.” She mirrors the pronunciation, smiling. “Everyone says it differently, using Terry is just easier.” 

“Do you prefer one over the other?” 

Therese looks at her, shaking her head. “You can call me Therese.” 

The waiter returns with Therese’s ginger ale, and hands them both menus. 

“I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.” 

“Thank you.” Carol smiles. 

“Can I get you anything to drink?” He asks. 

“A bottle of rosé for the table, please.” Carol replies and opens her menu. 

“I’ll be right back with that.” He gives them both a nod and walks away. 

“You know…” Therese says. “You didn’t say who you were either. Fashion Director of Aird Label.” 

“It never came up.” She teases, and Therese laughs. 

“It never clicked to me, why everyone was... excited before Genevieve arrived. And it’s because you were there.” 

Carol looks at her with a softness in her gaze that sets those butterflies dancing in her stomach again. 

“I guess I didn’t want to see your gaze change.” 

Therese raises a brow. “What do you mean?”

“People look at me differently when they realize who I am.” She explains, with a casualness that Therese can only interpret as her trying to minimize her words. “You haven’t though.” 

“Really?” Therese breathes out a laugh. “I mean— I _know_ the label. Fashion isn’t my…” 

Carol holds up a calm hand. “You haven’t. It’s very refreshing.”

She’s about to reply, to say something— like “thank you” but it feels too silly to get past her lips and yet Therese feels terribly honoured that Carol had shared that with her.. That with no real intention she had somehow ingratiated herself to this woman, by merely seeing her as a person. Another artist.

The waiter returns with the bottle of rosé, placing two wine glasses at either of their places. 

“Have you had a chance to decide?” He asks, and the two women exchange a glance. 

“We’ll need a few more minutes.” Therese replies and sees Carol smile again out of the corner of her eye. The look reaches her eyes. There are hints of laugh lines around her eyes, her cheeks lift when her smile is wholly unguarded, and there is a sweet smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks that her lipstick colour enhances ever so softly.

“Therese?” 

She looks at Carol. 

“Yes?” 

“Do I have something on my face?” 

Therese feels her cheeks burn, and watches Carol pour them both some wine. “No— I just… I _really_ like the shade of your lipstick.” She laughs. Carol shakes her head, motioning at Therese’ menu with an elegant finger. 

“Find something to eat and I’ll tell you the shade.”

She doesn’t think she’s ever been given better incentive.

~**~

They both decide on their meals, though Therese is terribly indecisive, and then terribly relieved when Carol freely offers her knowledge about what foods pair well with the rosé they’re drinking. Carol chooses a salmon dish, with spinach and goat cheese, and Therese settles on lamb-stuffed ravioli with seafood in cream sauce. Once they make their orders and the waiter disappears with their menus, Therese takes a sip of the rosé, enjoying its fruity flavour. 

“Will you tell me now?” She asks, and Carol grins. 

“My daughter found a kit of holiday themed liquid lipsticks at the mall recently.” She explains. “They’re even lightly scented, I liked all the shades so I bought it. She thinks it’s the funniest thing— this one is called pumpkin spice— and she loves the pumpkin spice hot chocolate I make.” 

Therese’s smile is warm. “That’s adorable.” 

Carol reaches for her phone in her coat pocket and clicks it on. “I’ll show you a picture.” 

“What’s her name?” 

“Rindy… Norinda. An old family name.” Carol says, thumbing the screen and finding a picture she likes. “Here’s one.” She hands her phone to Therese who takes it and looks it over. The girl’s attention is fixed on something outside of the frame, she is smiling and her fist is clenched in excitement.

“She’s lovely. Looks like you… except for the— oh.” She looks more closely. 

“The eyes.” Carol says, and Therese nods. One of the girl’s eyes is deep blue, and the other is a green-hazel. “She got them from her grandmother, on her father’s side of the family. It’s uncanny.”

“She seems excited in this picture.” 

Carol laughs and Therese returns the phone. 

“This was from her fourth birthday party about a month and a half ago. We brought her to a museum, per her request actually. She wanted to see the stained glass exhibit.”

“She enjoyed herself?” Therese asks, and Carol nods. 

“Yes.” She slips the phone back in her coat pocket. “Very much so.” 

“Good.” Therese takes another sip of her wine, and Carol does the same. “Were you able to reach that man? Foster? Who called you?” 

Carol scoffs rolling her eyes a little. 

“Hargess Foster.” She corrects. “My ex-husband.”

“I’m sorry.” Therese says, force of habit. 

“Nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry for his rudeness.” She takes another sip of her wine. “The holidays bring out the worst in him. And we haven’t come to a conclusion about custody so he’s—” she gives an dismissive wave of her hand, “—milking his chances to have Rindy with him.” Carol laughs, shaking her head. “You don’t need to hear any of that.”

“I don’t mind.” Therese says quickly. She would listen to Carol talk about anything, as long as she was talking.

Carol gives her an appreciative smile. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” She takes a sip of her wine. 

“You’re an artist, you’re a photographer. Do you have your own apartment?” 

Only a few sips in and she’s already beginning to feel the wine. It makes her cheeks burn more than the embarrassment, but at least she can pretend she’s flushed because of the wine instead. 

“Yes I do.” She says. “It’s a bit cold but it has good natural light and it’s central. It was only a short walk to the studio yesterday.” 

“You don’t have anyone special in your life?” 

“No.” She says it too fast. “Well… Not exactly. It’s a bit complicated.” 

“How so?” The way she asks makes Therese’s head spin a little. She doesn’t want to talk about Rick, but she feels utterly compelled to give Carol these answers. 

“I’ve known Rick for two years. He asked me to be exclusive, his mama tries to get my measurements whenever I visit.” She laughs uncomfortably. “She thinks I’m a good Christian girl and wants us to get married so Rick will stop his _artistic rebellion_ and take over his father’s business.”

“A good Christian girl?” Carol asks, amused. 

“Boarding school.” Therese offers. “I wore a pendant I was given by a sister when I left. Mama is a lovely woman, but once she makes her mind up about something, it’s made.” She sighs, a bit exasperatedly. “I kind of think he just calls me his girlfriend so she won’t bother him as much.” The statement is a bit of a revelation.

“So he’s an artist as well?” Another sip of wine. 

“He’s actually been doing chalk art, murals and such, lately, in public parks. Anywhere with a blacktop.” 

“Not that artist that goes by _Senior_ online?” 

Therese laughs. “Yes actually— he thinks it’s funny that everyone started calling him Senior, when he just signs the work S R.” 

“Well isn’t that something.” 

Was it? She had supported Rick in his artistic endeavors for as long as they’ve known each other, but his work an her own, their relationship, it didn't feel sustainable long term. Not with the pressure from his family. Therese and Carol sit in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks. Therese can only hope their food comes soon or she’ll well and truly be tipsy on half a glass of rosé. Her wish is granted when the waiter returns with two steaming plates of delicious smelling food and places their dishes before them with grace, along with a small shaker of cheese.

“Enjoy your meals.” He says and leaves after refilling their water glasses. 

“This looks incredible.” Therese breathes, picking up her fork and glancing at Carol. 

“Doesn’t it? _Bonne appetite _.” She winks.__

__“I’ll let you try some if you want.” Therese offers, spearing her fork into a ravioli._ _

__“I may just take you up on that.” Carol says with a smile as she cuts into her fish._ _

__~**~_ _

__Her meal is delicious, and she does indeed share some with Carol, who in return lets her have almost a quarter of her fish. The plates are so big that they are both able to take a reasonable amount home with them. By the time their plates are cleared Therese thinks their lunch will have come to an end, Carol surprises her by asking if she’d like some tea or coffee. She agrees. They decide to split a piece of pie, which arrives promptly with steaming mugs of tea. Chai for Therese and Earl Grey for Carol._ _

__“What is your schedule like?” Carol asks, stirring some sugar into her tea in slow circles._ _

__“Unless there’s a photoshoot with the label I can work remotely so I'm at home mostly of the time. That gives me more time to work on my art— making it, triaging it, putting it up online, you know.” She shrugs, smiling._ _

__“Are you busy leading up to Christmas?”_ _

__“I have a few shipments to send out, but the next two weeks should be quiet.” She thinks fondly about the art she’d make during the new year._ _

__“You’re passionate about it aren’t you?” Carol says, and Therese meets her gaze._ _

__“What gives it away?”_ _

__“You get a look on your face, I only see it on people who really love what they do.”_ _

__Therese grins. “You’re very observant.”_ _

__“It’s learned.” She says, and points her spoon at Therese. “If you’re not busy, would you like to spend the day with me on Sunday? Pick up a tree and help decorate it with Rindy and I?”_ _

__Therese’s lips part as if she’ll speak, and breathes out a laugh, smiling even wider now. “I would.” She says._ _

__“Okay.” Carol’s smile is relieved and calm, and Therese lifts her mug to her lips, blowing gently on her tea. “What an odd girl you are.” Carol says, and Therese almost chokes on her tea._ _

__“Why?” She asks._ _

__“Made of star stuff.” Carol says, but Therese can’t help but think that the term is better suited for her with all the freckles she’d like to count on Carol’s cheeks._ _

__She savours every bite of pie, knowing that each one meant their lunch would be ending soon. Therese offers to pay the tip, and that’s as much as Carol allows, insisting that this was her treat. They put their coats on in silence, they walk out together into the doorway of the restaurant to avoid the wind._ _

__“Thank you for bringing me my phone.” Carol says, tightening her scarf._ _

__“Thank you for lunch.” Therese laughs._ _

__“I’ll text you my address later, alright?” She says, leaning in._ _

__It’s a half hug and a friendly cheek kiss, her lips are warm and the light squeeze she gives Therese’s shoulder would linger in her mind for the rest of the day._ _

__“Enjoy the rest of your day.” Therese says, and watches Carol duck out onto the sidewalk and head up toward her car. Therese starts up the opposite way, keeping her eye out for a cab. She has to tuck her scarf more tightly to keep the wind from whipping it, and within a few minutes she has secured herself a ride home._ _

__She barely notices the time, barely notices herself climb the echoey stairs of her apartment. Only when she drops her keys in front of her door does she really notice how spaced out she’s been._ _

__Therese unlocks the door and steps inside, unzipping her boots and kicking them off, hanging her coat and scarf and padding into the main living area in her socks. The beginnings of her triage are as she had left them, and would leave them overnight, there would be about half a foot of space between her murphy bed and the tarp when she pulled it down later. For now, she sets her bag on the island, sticks her leftovers in the fridge and turns on the kettle, already preparing another mug of tea._ _

__She grabs a wool sweater off a chair and shrugs it on, and clicks the space heater to life for good measure. Therese pulls her phone out of her bag and opens the calendar app. She carefully thumbs in the date: VISIT WITH CAROL & RINDY, and though she has not yet received the address from Carol she couldn’t bare not to put it down somewhere concretely. To forget would be impossible but she feels almost as though this invitation might have been a dream. _ _

__Carol had told her she doesn’t look at her like other people do, and the idea both scares and warms her. She has no way to know how she looked at Carol. She just does. A burden and a gift all at once, because it would break her heart if she were to see Carol again and be told her gaze had changed. How could she know? How could she know if her look was the _right look_ , when all she was looking at was a kind and talented and beautiful woman. It was hard not to admire her, even if her work wasn’t in the industry Therese was interested in. _ _

__Therese makes her tea and begins sorting through more of her art, leaving her phone on the island to keep herself from checking it too often. It’s half an hour before any messages come through, but when one does, and the phone chirps, she bounds over and checks it. It is from Carol, the address and a suggested time._ _

___CAROL: I had a lovely time with you today, here is the address…_  
CAROL: Is 10:30 too early for you?  
TERRY: 10:30 is fine :) thank you again. Looking forward to sunday  
CAROL: alright 10:30 on sunday morning, can I have your address so I can pick you up?  
TERRY: it’s set. Here’s my address… 

__Therese sends her the address, and immediately puts Carol’s into her contact information, as well as the time. Those butterflies are back again and she can only brush them off as the result of day drinking very good rosé._ _


	5. Chapter 5

The process of tidying and triaging her studio space is one Therese finds quite cathartic. Seeing her pieces laid out by size and colour, arranging the complete and incomplete pieces and remembering the moods she was in when she made or started them makes her feel so whole as an artist. With her laptop open to a spreadsheet she had prepared months and months earlier, she keeps a catalogue of her paints. By colour and brand and weight, using a kitchen scale, to keep herself on track with how much of each she has left, to see which she’s using most often and which she’s using least often. 

She already has a list of paints she wants to buy, pieces she wants to start, but she needs to get her finished pieces photographed and put up on her website, as well as prep a few orders for shipping and get them to the post office. She isn’t in a rush with the latter, her clients know it will take some time, especially if they chose to have the work framed. Merely sending them a painting is easier because she could roll it up and ship it in a poster tube. So those that chose frames would have her art by the New Year, but probably not sooner. 

Therese had pondered if she would need to make adjustments to her sales, if providing a base price and bidding option would potentially increase her profits… but she had told herself that she shouldn’t consider such things until she could get a taste of what the photoshoot would do for her in terms of website traffic and demand for her art. She doesn’t do prints, but she does put some pieces on tote bags and hoodies for the sake of marketing. She has a hoodie of her own, in grey with a rectangle rendition of one of her paintings across the front, above the pocket. 

It was with a nervous anticipation that she thought about these things, eager and dreading what higher demand would mean for her ability to keep up with both selling and creating. 

Her thinking is distracted when Ricky arrives, as he does on Saturdays, and Therese invites him in with a quick hug. He wouldn’t help her triage, they’d tried that a while ago and she just got frustrated. He promised to stay out of her way, as long as she didn’t mind him coming over just to spend time with her. She didn’t. 

“You’ve gotten a lot done already.” He says, hanging up his coat. 

“I have, I’m working my way through updating the paints at this point.” She sits back down at the island, where three baskets of paint, her laptop, and a kitchen scale sit awaiting her return. 

“You mind if I make some coffee?” He asks once he’s taken his boots off. 

“No go ahead.” She looks at her screen picking out a bottle of reddish-orange paint, checking the label and placing it on the waiting scale. 

Ricky presses a kiss to her temple as he passes her, and laughs a little. 

“You smell like acrylics.” He teases and Therese laughs too, looking up to watch him take down her reusable coffee funnel and find the container of grounds in the freezer. 

“Comes with the territory.” She says, updating the weight of the paint bottle. He fills the kettle and sets it to boil. 

“How was the shoot?” He asks. 

Therese looks up at him, his expression is sincere and interested. 

“The musician loved the set. Everyone did.” She smiles, feeling a flush creep onto her cheeks. “I met the Fashion Director of Air Label as well. We might be in the magazine— or at the very least the exposé on the website.” 

“They got you in the photoshoot? How’d that go?”

“Well it was very spur of the moment— apparently.” She shakes her head. “I was whisked off to makeup and they steamed and lint rolled me and gave me a very pretty and busy necklace to wear with matching earrings.” 

“Oh? So they dressed you up a little?” 

“Yeah— I think it was moonstone beads, sort of bluey-green. Very lovely. Shawn liked how I have my little hoops through two of my piercings, so he just gave me replacement earrings for my thirds.” 

Rick opens the coffee grounds and scoops out enough for two or three mugs before returning the container to the freezer. “How was it meeting those celebrities then? Genevieve Logan right? And Carol Aird?”

Therese scowls, he pronounces it _Carole_ and the sound of it gives her a visceral a reaction as the taste of pickles. 

“ _Carol_ —” she corrects “— and both she and Genevieve were lovely to meet. Gen really loved the set, I got a lovely picture of her when she first saw it. I think it’ll make it to the exposé.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” He says, and the kettle clicks. 

She watches him pour the water over the coffee grounds, until the dark liquid seeps out into the carafe. Therese plucks another bottle out of the basket and goes about the process of weighing and updating its information on her spreadsheet. 

“Can I use this gingerbread coffee creamer Terry?” Rick asks when he opens the fridge. 

“Yep.” 

He takes it out and pours himself a mug of coffee, leaving enough room for the creamer, which he adds, filling it to the brim of the mug. Rick sets himself up at the other end of the island, with enough space to pull out his tablet and pen, settling in to do some school work. She’d always wondered why he liked coming to her apartment to work rather than a library or home. When she’d asked he said it was the perfect medium. That he liked spending time with her and even if they didn’t speak to each other. Therese found it hard to completely sink into her work when he was around, but she could understand what he meant. 

~**~

With her paints catalogued, Therese is able to move on to staging and photographing her finished art work and get it uploaded. So she leaves Rick to his school work and goes about getting the usual set prepared. A square of cream coloured fabric, one and a half meters squared goes on the floor as a background for the art. Two bright but diffused lights are set up on a rig, one stays put while the other can move around a circular track. It took quite a bit of handy work but she’s glad she has it. When her work has iridescence and metallics she likes to have an extra sample images to demonstrate how different angles of light will make them stand out. 

Therese starts with the smallest finished pieces, card sized, and works her way up to the larger pieces which are a little under a meter. Everything bigger has already been put up on the website, and she’s excited to make more big pieces now that she’s done the set. 

Her process is fairly simple. She works from her tablet, adjusting the light and the camera from the device and taking the pictures with a remote shutter release. It is some of the easier work, and she gets a little kick out the few second-long videos she creates with the lighting rig to show off the metallics and iridescence. 

“Do you have plans for Christmas?” Rick asks, the first words he’s said since he asked for the gingerbread coffee creamer. 

“I don’t know.” She replies as she adjusts the lighting on the latest piece, reducing the glare.

“Would you like to come for Christmas Eve dinner?” He asks, and the shutter clicks on her photograph. 

“Can you promise that Mama won’t break out her measuring tape again?” She asks, looking over at him with a mirthful smile. 

“No.” He says with a laugh. “Is that really so bad?” 

Therese shrugs. “It makes me uncomfortable.” 

“It makes me uncomfortable too.” He agrees. “But you know Mama.” 

“I do. But it’s difficult to establish boundaries with her.” 

“It bothers you that much?” 

“Yes.” Therese removes the painting from under the tripod and sets it aside, and then places the next one. 

“She doesn’t have a say in how our relationship goes, you know that right?” 

“Of course I do.” She looks at him again. “But what we have isn’t exactly typical. She doesn’t respect your art, and she has been putting more pressure on you about the business.” Therese shakes her head. 

“I don’t want the business though. I’ve made that clear.” 

“I think she’s hoping a wife would ‘make you see the light’.” 

“It’s still just a dream. You’re certainly not the typical house-wife type, and I’m not a nine-to-fiver.” 

Therese laughs, trying to picture herself and Rick in a house, owning a car, him wearing a suit, she… she? What would she be doing? Caring for a child? She knows Mama wants that. Wants grandchildren. Her laughter quickly sobers, and she swallows hard. 

“We’re not marriage material.” She says, but it feels like a lie. Because she remembers looking at Carol’s photo of Rindy, of seeing the joy on that child’s face, and the love in Carol’s expression when she talked about their museum visit. She had found herself wanting to share that with someone, to have that. But she could not imagine the _how_ in getting that, just the want. And it was not with Rick that she wanted it. 

“I don’t know about that.” 

“We’re too young.” Therese argues. “At least I am. I’m twenty-one.” 

“Plenty of people get married at twenty-one.” Rick replies. 

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable.” She says. It’s an answer to a lot of things. To Christmas Eve dinner, to marrying him, to going to Europe. All of it. 

“If I talk to Mama about her pushiness, do you think you’ll reconsider coming to dinner?” He asks. 

She’s quiet for a few seconds as she adjust the light for her next piece. “Yes, if you talk to her about it.” It doesn’t feel satisfactory though, because that’s how they’d left their conversation about Europe as well. Not a no. Never a no. 

“Alright.” 

Therese takes the photo and looks over the result, satisfied, she moves on to the next piece. 

“I think inviting me to Europe is her wanting us closer together.” Therese admits after a moment of silence. “Some kind of romantic European epiphany.” She waves her hand uncertainly. 

“I wasn’t under a delusion it wasn’t.” Rick shrugs. 

“But you still play along with it?” She looks at him. 

“She can scheme all she wants, Terry. I still want you to come— for the art, for the experience.”

“It would feel like tricking her, like lying.” 

“As if it isn’t a manipulation already, as much as she loves either of us.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Is this you saying no?” He asks, and it pains her to hear the disappointment in his voice. 

“Yes.” She forces herself to look at him. “I’m sorry. I can’t go to Europe. It’s as much the pressure on the relationship as it is a matter of feeling like a decent human being.” 

Rick is quiet for a moment, looking at is hands in his lap. Therese returns her attention to the art, and prepares the camera to capture the quick video as the light moves around the rig. It makes a light whirring sound as it goes, and she looks over the footage with a satisfactory nod. 

“Do you love me?” 

His questions chills Therese to the core. 

She closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath, putting the tablet down on the floor and turning to face him. 

“That’s a bit of a complicated question, Rick.” She admits.

“How so?” 

“Because…” she closes her eyes again, trying to pick the right words. “Because I chose to be exclusive with you. I care about you, I made that commitment. But I don’t think… I don’t think we’re going to be more than what we are. I don’t think sex is going to work. It doesn’t feel right. And I don’t think it ever will.” 

Rick is quiet again, and she can tell he’s mulling over what she’s said. 

Therese clears her throat. “I don’t not love you. It’s just not love like a normal couple.”

That makes Rick laugh, and for a second she worries that he might start crying. 

“We never were a normal couple were we?” 

“No. Not really.” 

“I love you.” He says. “Very much. You have always been considerate and honest and supportive of my work.” 

He’s said it before, he’s said it plenty of times, and just like all of those times before, it warms her with a mild affection and a tinge of anxiety. She smiles. “You are a _good_ artist Rick, it hurts to see that your family doesn’t respect it.” 

He nods. “I don’t think that will change… what made you think of that?” 

“I guess I realized that our relationship was a way to take the pressure off of you, having a girlfriend meant she wouldn’t bother you so much about the art, and the business.” 

“You know I never thought about it like that. That wouldn’t be fair.” 

“No— I know. But I think that’s what it was.” She explains. “And don’t get me wrong. I love your mom, she’s a kind and intense and dedicated woman. But she’s not on the same page with you about what you want with your life, and I don’t think we are either.” 

“I would have married you.” He says, and her belly aches. 

“I know, you’re sentimental like that.” 

“You don’t want to be with me?” It’s more of a statement than a question. 

“I don’t want you to be out of my life. But I don’t think it’s fair that we keep saying we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.” She picks at a loose thread on her pants, chewing at the inside of her lip. 

“Okay.” He says, and for once, she thinks he has completely understood her. 

“Okay.” She repeats, looking at him again. He ponders his tablet for a moment and sighs. 

“I said I’d meet one of my classmates for a group project soon.” He says. 

“Go ahead, don’t worry about it.” 

They both stand, and Therese comes over to the island, giving him a little space as he packs up his things. Once he zips his bag shut he pauses, fiddling with the zipper for a few seconds. 

“Can I hug you Terry?” He asks, and now she’s positive that he’s trying not to cry. 

“Yes.” 

So he comes over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and giving her a heartfelt squeeze. Therese hugs him back, arms around his shoulders, a hand on his hair. He takes a deep breath and sighs, just holding her. For the first time in two years the contact doesn’t make her uncomfortable. She feels utterly relieved.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, and she feels him shake his head. 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He says, his voice breaking. He presses a kiss to her her hair and lets go of her, walking over to the coat rack. Therese lets him get his coat and hat and scarf on, and lets him wipe his eyes, before taking his bag over to him. 

“Thanks.” He says, and she nods. “It’s getting late, don’t forget to eat lunch.” 

Therese laughs lightly. “I won’t, thank you.” 

Rick puts his bag on and opens the door, lingering in the doorway. 

“I’ll see you?” He asks, turning around and meeting her gaze. 

“You’ll see me.” She promises, and he smiles. 

“Bye, Terry.” 

“Bye.” 

~**~

Therese eats her leftovers from Julien’s slowly and deliberately. Despite the honest-to-god relief she felt to have gotten that weight off of her shoulders with Rick it has come with its own measure of guilt. She has to tell herself that she had not planned to end their relationship, that their conversation had taken its natural course and that they had not ended things on a negative note. Still. She wonders if it would have been worth it to wait, to hold her tongue and bear the family dinner and tell him how she felt after the holidays. 

The food is just as good the day after. Each bite reminds Therese of the beautiful hue of Carol’s lipstick, which when she first realizes it, only makes her feel more guilty and more confused. When she finishes her food, she makes herself some tea and washes Rick’s coffee mug. She places it on the rack before going to her bag and getting out her vaporizer. She brings it and the tea back with her to her photography set up and takes some pulls from the pen while she works. The guilts eases as her focus returns to lighting rig, to the art, and to the emotions the colours evoke in her memory. 

There are only three large paintings to photograph, so the work goes quickly, and Therese is able to begin uploading the photos and giving them a quick edit before posting them to her website. She titles each after the main colour featured in the work, and writes up a quick description including the song or album she was listening to when she made them (if she was listening to anything), the time it took and the colours she used. As with all her works, she features a disclaimer that computer screens may not reflect the true colours represented in the paintings. 

She disassembles the tripod and light rig, putting them away. She puts the finished art away too, now organized and in their rightful places. The unfinished work she would leave out, make some notes and tape them to the back of the pieces for when she returns to them. For now she leaves them in view, but safely out of the way, so as not to forget about them. Therese puts the baskets of paints back on their shelves, and finally rolls the paint covered tarp back up and puts it away as well. 

She settles down at the island again and opens her shopping list for her next run to the store. Frames, and bubble wrap and Styrofoam and boxes for shipping her art out. And paint. New paint. Paint was always her favourite thing to buy, so much so that she limited herself to no more than a few new bottles every three months (restocking her regular paint was another story). Her next trip she already had a fond idea of what she wanted, and quickly does an online search for “pumpkin spice liquid lipstick”. She gets her expected result almost instantly, finding the brand among the first five results. 

Therese saves the sample image of the lipstick smeared on light skin— idly appreciating how nice it looks even on darker skin as she clicks through all eight sample images— and uses the colour dropper in her editing software to make a swatch. Even if it wasn’t exactly the same, she doesn’t think she could easily forget that dark blush pink with undertones of warm orange. She puts other colours on her list, but none are as specific as the pink. The rest of her list is comprised of materials she needs; paper and canvases, droppers, sponges, and two miscellaneous spots for whatever might inspire her. 

Therese prints her list and staples the pages together, sticking it to the metal shelf near her front door with a magnet, satisfied with the work she had completed. The guilt lingers, but feels a little lighter— Therese tells herself she’s allowed to feel relief and she’s allowed to feel the quiet excitement that has been lingering at the back of her mind throughout the day. She would be seeing Carol again so soon, and that fact soothes her into a an odd state of contentment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only three scenes this time, because their conversation went way differently than I'd expected. I'm working with an outline that I'd written out to guide me through events that need to happen to move the plot forward, but sometimes the scenes play out differently and it's quite fun to be the one making it all unfold.
> 
> Thank you all for the comments, they are incredibly encouraging! Keep them coming please!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In terms of updates, I am getting these chapters up as fast as I am because I'm writing this for nanowrimo. I'll just mention again that I am doing the bare minimum of editing to maintain my sanity and I hope that doesn't impede anyone's reading. 
> 
> Also, a longer chapter this time! I had a lot to get through.

When Carol arrives outside Therese’s apartment, Therese has been waiting for ten minutes already. She had chosen to French-braided her hair today. The wind had let up and the forecast was decidedly sunny, so she chose to wear a light brown fuzzy fleece jacket, with brown leather patches over the elbows, and a pair of dark-wash high waisted jeans. She’d decided to take a camera bag with her, to slip her usual every-day items into it with her camera and two of her favourite lenses. She lets it hang from one of her shoulders partially unzipped as she takes the minutes to draw a few pulls from her vaporizer. 

The taste is fresh and mixes pleasantly with the cool air. It’s something she appreciates in a quiet sort of way. In the Summer, she appreciates the way vaporizing masks the rot of the city, but in the cold months, she can really enjoy its taste. Without the wind from the days prior, Therese lets herself enjoy being outside while she waits. 

Carol’s car is a dark silver Audi, and she waves to Therese with her braced hand when she pulls up. Therese takes a final pull from her pen and opens the passenger door. 

“Good morning.” She says, getting in and buckling her seatbelt. She puts her vaporizer back in its case as Carol pulls away and starts driving. 

“Good morning.” Carol replies, giving her a warm smile that has those butterflies dancing in her belly already. “That’s a fun jacket.” She says, looking Therese over with an amused grin.

“It’s very soft— feel it if you like.” Therese holds out an arm as she slips the case into her bag. 

When they reach a stop light, Carol places her hand on Therese’s arm and rubs the length of her sleeve, giving a light hum of laughter. 

“That _is_ nice. Rindy will go absolutely bonkers for it.” She says, almost as a warning, and returns her hand to the wheel. 

“Then I picked just the right jacket for today then.” Therese laughs, holding her bag on her lap. 

“Do you want to put your bag in the back seat?” Carol asks. 

“Oh— sure.” She reaches back between their seats and lays her bag on the seat behind Carol’s. 

“Are you warm enough?” 

“Yes.” 

“There’s a heating option.” 

“Oooh.” Therese raises a curious brow. Carol motions the controls and Therese presses the middle setting. It takes a moment, but the warmth spreads under her and across her lower back. “Nice.” 

Carol merely smiles. 

They drive for a while, out of the city, quiet and content. Therese watches the world outside the car, not out her own window though, out the windshield or out Carol’s window. Because she’s also watching Carol. She had pulled her natural loose curls into a little bun at the nape of her neck today. Her makeup is softer and more natural and shows more of her freckles— little dots scattered like stars, some lighter some darker, all captivating in Therese’s eyes. 

But she also likes to see Carol _being_. People _perform_ so much. Every day is a performance, every interaction. It’s been her privilege to capture people _being_ with her photography— she noticed it first with children. Children _be_ all the time, they learn to perform. And while she drives, Carol relaxes, her attention on the road and the other cars— only when she thinks Therese is looking (which she is, but would shift her gaze out the windshield to avoid making eye contact) did she seems to slip back into something of a performance. 

The longer they’re in the car though, the less Carol seems to perform. 

“There’s a tree place about ten minutes from here.” Carol says, and Therese meets her gaze. 

“We’ll stop?” 

“We can pick up sandwiches and pick a tree before heading to the house.” 

“Sound good.” Therese agrees. “Is there a particular ‘look’ you’d like?” 

Carol laughs. “Something full, but not too thick.” 

“Alright. I’ll keep my eyes open.” 

They arrive at the tree lot as expected, ten minutes later. A small convenience store sits across the street from it, with loud and bright decorations outside promoting discounted holiday drinks, and deals on stocking-stuffers.

“How about you go get us some food— I’ll get a head start on the tree hunt.” She pulls into the make-shift parking lot. 

“Anything you want in particular?” 

“Chicken salad if it’s there— thanks.” 

They get out, both opening the back doors and reaching for their bags. 

“Hey— you’re my guest.” Carol says, reaching over through the car to hand Therese some money. “I’ve got it all covered. Just bring me the change, okay?” 

Therese takes it, but finds her cheeks burning as she does. “Okay.” 

Carol smiles and shuts the door. Therese does the same, pocketing the cash. 

“Carol?” She asks, before she can get too far away. Carol turns to face her. “Do you want anything to drink?” 

“If they’ve got coffee in there, I take it with three sugars and one milk— you can leave everything in the car though. Let’s eat after we find the tree.”

“Alright— be back in a few minutes.” 

Therese crosses the street to the convenience store, and hears the door jingle as she pushes it open. It’s quite busy, with holiday themed decor and foods— however festive convenience store foods can get. The clerk behind the counter doesn’t pay her much mind as she slips over to the open refrigeration section and begins perusing the selection of sealed sandwiches. 

She finds chicken salad and, when she finds no other appealing options, she takes another for herself as well. Therese picks out a bag of dark chocolate covered cranberries and a vitamin water before finding the coffee at the back of the store. The pot has chalk marker written on it, it was brewed an hour ago. She double-cups and makes Carol a coffee, pouring in the sugar and milk, and giving a quick stir before taking everything to the cash. 

Therese pays and carries out the purchase with the coffee in one and and the rest in a reusable bag with a white bear on the front. She can see Carol talking to someone by the front of the tree lot, and quickly makes her way back to the car to put the food away. 

On a whim, Therese pulls out her camera and fits a lens onto it, draping the strap around her neck. She lifts the camera, peering through it to find a subject. Therese takes a picture of the trees at the edge of the lot, getting a glint of the metal fence in the sunlight. And then she finds Carol, smiling as she speaks to the clerk. She takes a picture of the sun shining on Carol’s blonde hair. 

And then Carol seems to deflate, her conversation having come to its end, as well as her performance. She brings her left hand up to rub at her neck before she shivers. Just as Therese is about to lower her camera, flurries of snow start glittering in the air around Carol. Therese sucks in a breath, and takes a picture the exact moment Carol notices the snow— a look of awe lighting up her face. 

Therese lowers her camera, feeling breathless and electric and hopeful. She looks up at the clouds above them, and laughs. Because from where the sun is lending its light, the sky is cloudless, but above them, a light grey cloud has sent them down some fat white flakes. 

“Did they have coffee?” Carol calls, and Therese looks back at her. 

“Yes! Would you like it?” 

“Yes please!” 

Therese takes the coffee with her, shutting the door before heading over to Carol at the front of the lot. 

“Can you believe it?” Therese asks, handing the coffee over. “It’s like a sun shower.” She tilts her head back and gazes up at the snow falling from above. 

“It’s pretty isn’t it.” Carol admires, and Therese looks at her, following when she motions for them to head into the tree lot. 

“Very.” But Therese thinks she might be thinking about something else.

They walk along the solid dirt path, ducking among the rows of tree, comparing and examining every tree that meets the qualifications of “full but not too thick”. It doesn’t take long before Carol finds one she likes. 

“I think this is the one.” Carol says. 

“Are you just saying that because you’re cold?” Therese asks, teasing lightly. She’d seen her shiver a few times. 

“No, no. I like it. No bare areas. Full without being overbearing. And not too tall either.” About seven feet high at the top. 

“Let’s take it then.” Therese concludes. “If you’re sure, can I take your picture next to it?— for Rindy?” 

Carol looks at her, a thoughtful expression on her face of which its source is hard to place. As if she were surprised but also amused. 

“That’s a nice idea.” She agrees. 

Therese stand a little ways back, getting as much of Carol in the photo as possible without backing into another tree. While she adjusts the lens, Carol lifts an arm, posing playfully and making a face that makes Therese laugh a real belly laugh and has to reframe her photo. 

She takes one with the pose that Carol gives her, and steals another when she breaks the pose, a natural contented look about her. 

“Got it?” She asks. 

“Yes.” 

They flag down an employee, and promptly their tree is cut and wrapped. Two men help put the tree into the back of the car after Carol and Therese had moved their things and folded down the seats. The tip of it just pokes between their seats, and the remains of the trunk sticks out the back, which they secure with two bungee cords. 

By the time they finish eating their lunch the car has begun to smell like spruce tree, and Therese savours every breath. Carol gets out a final time to throw away their garbage and lets in a rush of cool air when she returns, making Therese shiver. 

“I love the smell of Christmas trees.” Therese says dreamily, giving a sigh, and Carol laughs lightly. 

“That’s part of the reason I like buying real trees.” She says, and starts the car. “The natural aroma is so pleasant, and I can burn the wood in the new year. Nothing wasted.” 

“Nothing wasted.” Therese repeats.

“Shall we go?” 

“By all means. I can’t wait to start decorating this thing.” 

Carol backs them out of the parking lot. “Rindy has some ornaments that she’s very eager to put on it.” 

“I’m looking forward to meeting her.” Therese says, more soberly.

“She’ll like you.” Carol says assuredly. “I think you two have a similar spirit.” 

 

~**~ 

 

Therese doses off the last stretch of the drive, with the scent of spruce in her nose and the warm seat under her. She only realizes this when the road changes, from smooth asphalt to stone. She opens her eyes and sees elegant driveway ahead of them, and the house before them. It’s three storeys, and Therese can only guess at the number of rooms it has. 

“Therese?” Carol coaxes, a tone so sweet and inviting that it burns her cheeks and makes her shiver all at once. 

“Yes.” She replies, clearing her throat. 

“I thought you’d fallen asleep.” She explains. 

“I might have for a bit.” Therese admits, and Carol maneuvers the car so that the back is facing a long two-door garage. Therese sits up straighter, and takes her vitamin water from the cup holder, taking a few swigs. 

As they get out, Therese sees the large front door open, and a tiny little blonde head in a big wool sweater bounds out, with a shorter, slim and almost grey-haired woman behind her. 

“Mumma!” Comes a delighted shriek, and Therese watches Rindy bound over to her mother. Carol bends at the knees and scoops her daughter up in her arms, spinning her around and peppering her face with kisses.

“How’s my little girl?” Carol asks, holding Rindy on her hip. Therese opens the back door to get her bag off the floor, and takes Carol’s as well. 

“It was snowing, Mumma! Bit fluffy flakes.” Therese smiles and walks around the car to them, Rindy glances at her and smiles shyly.

Carol pokes her nose. “What else?” She encourages. 

“W—we—well I went out and danced in it!” Rindy exclaimes. “And— and make footprints when it made the grass white— but it went away.” 

“We saw the big snowflakes too.” Therese says, and watches Rindy’s shy smile. “When we went to pick out a Christmas tree.” She grins. 

“A Christmas tree!” Rindy almost screams, and Carol winces. “You got a tree!?” 

“Lower voice baby.” Carol pleads gently, letting her wiggling daughter down. Rindy bolts past Therese to the back of the car and bounces when she sees the bit of trunk hanging out. Carol undoes the bungee cords and lets the back door lift up to reveal the tree wrapped in burlap. 

“Was the tree cold?” She asks, putting her hand on the fabric. 

“Why do you ask?” Carol replies.

“It’s wearing a blanket.” Rindy explains, and Therese grins. 

“The blanket helps keep the tree from losing any branches while we drove it home.” Therese says, and Rindy looks at her again. 

“You can say hi, Rindy.” Carol nudges her daughter, who scrunches up her face with a grin. 

“Hi.” She says. 

The older woman approaches, now wearing a cardigan, and gives Carol a respectful nod. 

“This is Therese, I met her at work.” Carol does the introduction, and Therese places both the bags in the back next to the tree, kneeling down to Rindy’s height. 

“You can call me Terry if you want. All my friends do.” She holds out her hand, and Rindy giggles reaching out to shake Therese’s hand firmly. 

“I’m Rindy.” She says quietly. 

“I know, your mom told me I’d get to meet you today.” Therese looks up at Carol with a tender smile. 

“You helped her pick the tree?” Rindy asks, and Therese nods. “Can we bring it inside now?” She asks in a whisper, and Therese laughs. 

“Yes, I think we can.” She replies, standing again. 

Carol runs a hand over Rindy’s hair. “You wanna go get the tree stand I got out the other day? Put it in the spot we talked about?” 

“Next to the piano?” Rindy looks up at Carol with a grin. 

“You got it.” Carol winks, and Rindy dashes off back toward and into the house. 

She turns to Therese. 

“This is Florence,” she says, motioning to the woman. “She’s my housekeeper, and occasional nanny.” 

Florence and Therese shake hands. 

“Therese, or Terry.” She says, as she greets the woman. 

“Nice to meet you Terry.” Florence replies. 

“Therese,” Carol begins, eyeing the tree. “If you go inside with Rindy, Florence and I can get the tree in—” 

“Not a chance.” Therese interrupts, taking the bags out of the back of the car and holding them out to her. “I will get the tree inside with Florence.” She looks over at the woman, who nods resolutely. “I won’t want you lifting it with your wrist.” She insists, and takes the tree by the stump. 

Carol looks at her with an expression of surprise, but it’s gone just as quickly when Florence slips past and gets her hands on a covered middle section of the tree with both hands. 

“Go ahead, two is enough and we’ll need the stand ready.” Florence encourages lightly. 

Carol laughs softly. “Alright, alright.” With the bags in hand, Carol walks into the house ahead of them. Therese and Florence get the tree into the foyer with ease, and are guided by a bouncy four year old into the front room where a tree stand is ready and waiting. Carol enters from what Therese guesses is the kitchen, and guides them on getting it into the stand. 

“I can keep it up.” Therese says, and Florence lets go. 

“Rindy, dear.” Carol says, and the girl rushes to her side. “Can you please fill up the tank with warm water for me?” She takes the plastic water tank off the stand and hands it to Rindy. “It might be very heavy when it’s full, be careful.” 

“I’m strong.” Rindy insists and leaves the room. 

“I’ll get the vacuum.” Florence says and heads out the door they’d come in. 

Noticing a look of confusion on Therese’s face, Carol explains. “The needles will get on the floor when we take the burlap off.” 

“Oh— clearly.” Therese says with a laugh. “Never had a real tree for Christmas before.” 

Carol gets on her hands and knee, fastening the tree stump into the stand with three screws, using her left hand to twist them as tight as they’ll go while she holds herself up with her right hand. Once they’re sure it’s secure, Carol takes the tank from Rindy who was indeed strong enough to take the full tank all the way from the kitchen back to the tree, and secures it in place. Rindy kneels to watch the tank bubble with loud ‘glug glug glug glug’ sounds as the water is distributed into the stand for the tree to drink. 

“I think we can unwrap it now.” Says Carol, standing back a ways, nodding satisfactorily. Therese stands next to her admiring their work and Rindy comes up next to her. 

In their efforts to get the tree inside they hadn’t taken their coats off, so Rindy gets an undistracted view of Therese’s fuzzy jacket. Her eyes widen and she reaches out and touches the jacket where it meets Therese’s hip. 

“Whoa.” She whispers, just loud enough to hear, and Therese peers down at her. 

“You like it?” Therese asks quietly, and Rindy looks up at her, looking like a deer in headlights. “You wanna try it?” 

She glances at Carol, who has cut the strings securing the burlap cover. Therese can see her smiling as she unwraps the tree and the branches shift to their previous fullness— and as she’d predicted, many needles end up on the floor. 

“I would like to try it Terry.” Rindy says, and smiles up at her. 

“Okay sure.” Therese says, starting to unzip the jacket. Florence steps over with the hand held vacuum, as Carol bunches up the fabric in her arms. Just as she’s slipping her jacket off her shoulders, she catches an uncertain expression on Rindy’s face. 

“Wait!” She exclaims, and Therese can see that she isn’t just talking about the jacket. “I have an idea. I’ll be right back.” And she runs away, clambering up the stairs.

“I told you she’d like it.” Carol says with a laugh, and Therese finishes taking off her jacket. She gives it a little shake and drapes it over her arm. Florence starts the vacuum and starts sucking up the needles. It isn’t as loud as she expected.

“Can you guess what she’s going to get?” 

“No idea.”

 

~**~

 

Therese stands on a step-stool weaving a colourful fabric garland around the top and middle parts of the tree. Boxes of decorations sit open around the room, featuring all kinds of ornaments. Carol stands on the other side of the tree, helping Therese get the garlands wrapped around the girth of the tree, carefully, so that they wouldn’t be scratched. 

Therese had paired up the four sheer floaty fabrics up, blue and white with silver sparkles, an orangey red with brilliant shiny gold. 

“I found another one!” Rindy exclaims, pushing up the too-long sleeves of Terry’s jacket that she’s been wearing since the vacuuming stopped and she returned with the item she’d run off to get. A headband with little antlers and ears on it, and a little almost-triangular strip of soft fabric that sits over her forehead, and ends in a little round nose that— much to her amusement— is interchangeable between a beige, brown and red nose (which attach with snaps). Rindy had eagerly shown Therese how to snap on the red nose, and now she wears the headband and the jacket and looks like a little reindeer. 

Rindy holds up another crystal ornament, a star shape, one of many other crystal ornaments she was determined to get on the tree. She places it in a padded box, and goes back to rifling through the other boxes. 

“Which lights do you want on the tree, Rindy?” Carol asks, stepping on the pedal and cycling through the four settings. White, Red Blue Green, the same but in a slow blinky pattern, and a white “sparkling” pattern.

“The plain colours for now, Mumma.” She replies. “So we see how the crystal ornaments will look with light on them.” 

Therese steps off the stool, and she and Carol finish winding the garlands around the tree. 

“Should we start putting them on?” Therese asks, and Rindy nods, holding up a snowman shaped ornament. Therese takes it from her and looks at the tree, an exaggerated thinking expression on her face. “Anywhere in particular?” 

“Next to the lights, please.” Rindy says, still digging through a big box of ornaments. 

Carol and Therese exchange smiles and begin putting the crystal ornaments up, as well spaced as possible over the tree to as high as they can reach. 

“Oh yes.” Rindy says, with such gusto that Carol bursts into laughter. 

They put up the decorations, breaking out a box of different sized ball ornaments in multiple colours. Rindy bounces around the tree pointing to where she wants her mother or Therese to put a particular size or colour, keen to have her vision executed in full. A few times she wanders over to the sofa where she’d left her blue, 360 degree drinking edge sippy cup. Rindy would take a seat and stare at the tree while she took a few gulps of whatever was inside. The third time she does this, she scoots all the way onto the couch cushion and sits back.

“I think we’re done.” Rindy says with finality.

“You don’t want to add anything else?” Therese asks, there are a few other boxes of decorations, but the tree is very well covered and quite pretty to look at. 

“No I like it like this.” Rindy confirms. 

“Well alright.” Carol agrees, and she and Therese put some of the boxes aside, out of the way under a small side table.

“Mumma can I have tablet time please?” Rindy asks, pointing at the tablet on the side table. 

“Put the timer on for forty minutes.” Carol says. 

Rindy picks up the tablet and pokes at the screen. Therese glances at Carol who rubs at her wrist over the brace with a clenched jaw, unaware that she is being watched. She looks back over at Rindy, still in her reindeer headband and Therese’s jacket, the little girl is looking at her with wide eyes. 

“Do you want to see my castle in Minecraft?” She asks eagerly, patting the cushion next to her. Therese smiles. 

“I’d love to.” 

 

~**~

 

Rindy quickly gets bored of Minecraft, more keen to watch an episode of one of her favourite shows. She braces the tablet on Therese’s lap, insisting that she watch with her. But before the episode ends, Rindy’s little head falls heavy against Therese’s arm, her antler headband falling sideways as she dozes off. Therese only really notices when Rindy starts slipping and ends up with her head pillowed on her lap, and Therese has to catch the tablet to keep it from tipping over onto Rindy’s face. 

Therese gently takes the headband the rest of the way off, smoothing the little girl’s wavy dark blonde hair out of her face, and eventually runs her hand over her soft jacket that Rindy is positively buried in. 

“Is she asleep?” Carol asks quietly, having picked up a book while Therese indulged Rindy. 

“Yeah.” Therese says, giving a silent laugh. 

She watches Carol stand and motion for her to follow. 

“Come one, you won’t wake her.” She encourages, and Therese gently slips out from under Rindy, who gives a little mumble but merely snuggles into the fuzzy collar of Therese’s jacket. 

Therese follows Carol into the kitchen, leaning against the counter next to her where she opens a cookie jar. Carol offers her one silently and Therese takes it, it is soft and she breaks it in two before starting to nibble at it. 

“Did you get those shipments done yesterday?” Carol asks, pouring herself a glass of water. 

“Hm?” Therese swallows her piece of cookie. 

“You mentioned at lunch that you had some items to ship.” 

There nods. “I spent the day triaging my art work, and updating my—uh… inventory of supplies.” She breaks the half into a quarter. “I have to go to the store before I can ship anything. Probably tomorrow or Tuesday.” Therese pops the quarter into her mouth.

“Quiet day then?” She asks. 

“More or less.” Therese says, half choking. She coughs a few times. She can’t think of a way to steer this conversation in another direction.

“Did you see that boyfriend you mentioned? Rick was it?” 

The question is posed so earnestly, it is clear to Therese that Carol cares a great deal— that she’s curious and interested in hearing about her life. Therese takes a strip of paper towel off the roll to her right and places the rest of her cookie on it. 

“I broke up with him actually.” She says a little flatly. 

“Oh.” And Carol sounds quite sad to hear it. “And you still came today?” 

Therese feels a flare of emotion in her, and gives a huff.

“And miss this?!” She says frankly. “What else would I have done? Stay at home alone? Wallow?” 

Carol gapes at her a little, not having expected Therese’s forthright tone. 

“Any breakup can be emotional.” Carol says knowingly. “I could only expect you to be upset, or—”

“I’m not upset.” Therese shakes her head. She isn’t upset. Not about ending the relationship. “I’m _relieved_.” 

“Therese…” 

It hits her all at once, all the emotion of the day before and of the day so far. All the love she had witnessed in only a few hours, the nervous energy she’d felt in her tummy to be here with Carol, all the guilt and the relief and the disgust she had felt about her relationship with Rick— at no fault of his. Her eyes well with tears, and try as she might she can’t help the silent sob that racks her body before the fat tears drip down her cheeks. 

“Oh baby.” Carol says, stepping over to Therese and cupping her cheek. Therese looks at her defeatedly. “Was he bad to you?” She asks. 

“No.” Therese answers, closing her eyes and leaning her cheek against Carol’s hand, sighing at the warm feeling the touch brings her. “No— he… tried really hard. He had good intentions.” When she opens her eyes she is met with an expression so honest that it makes her belly ache. “It’s all my fault.” She croaks. 

“I highly doubt that.” Carol replies, almost sternly. She rubs Therese’s arm with her right hand. 

“I couldn’t be intimate with him.” Therese says, shrugging. “I couldn’t do anything normal couples do.” She looks away trying to get the tears under control, her cheeks already burn from the embarrassment of telling Carol all of this. “He was so patient but I couldn’t, I could barely sleep in the same bed as him— it made me feel all clammy and suffocated— I couldn’t keep up the falsehood that somehow it could change.” 

Carol merely nods, listening intently.

“And I feel so _ugly_. So ugly— for feeling so relieved. To break things off because I couldn’t bare to be around his Mama and her expectations…” Therese closes her eyes again, taking a deep breath. Carol rubs her thumb over Therese’s cheek, wiping away the track her tears had taken. 

“You’re not wrong for feeling that way.” Carol says soothingly, and Therese gives a damp laugh. 

“I just can’t shake the feeling. All at once I feel so guilty for having such a wonderful time with you and Rindy… I didn’t even tell him I was visiting you. I— I liked having something to myself that wasn’t linked to him and… I ended it.” 

Therese wipes her other cheek, and Carol pats her hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“I’m having a wonderful time with you too.” She says. “And I was right.” 

“About what?” 

“Rindy really does like you.”

Therese grins, laughing. “I like her too.” She wipes her cheeks again. 

“Can I get you anything?” Carol asks. 

“Hot chocolate?” Therese suggests sheepishly and Carol grins. 

“I can do that.” 

Therese waits at the kitchen island while Carol goes about making the hot chocolate. She notices the sun on its way to the horizon this December afternoon and looks back at the tree, and the way the crystal ornaments are throwing the light around onto the floor.

“I’d like to photograph the tree.” She says. 

“By all means.” Carol invites. 

Therese stands slowly and pads out of the room, past a still-sleeping Rindy, and to her bag on the wood bench in the foyer. She takes out her camera again, turning it on as she pads back into the living room. Quietly she lines up her shot, getting an angle she likes and snapping the picture. Slipping into a comfortable focus, she finds a few different angles and takes more photos of the tree. She sits on the floor against the wall that shares a window and takes a photo with the natural afternoon light. Therese catches a glimpse of Rindy, so quiet and angelic asleep on the sofa that she is unable to resist the urge to capture the moment indefinitely. 

She stands, intent on going back to the kitchen, when the little girl stirs and rubs her face with her full hand. Therese goes over to her and kneels next to the couch, giving her back a rub. 

“Hey sleepy head.” She says softly, and sees Rindy smile as she opens her eyes. 

“Were you taking photos?” Rindy asks, seeing Therese’s camera. 

“I was taking photos of the tree.” 

Rindy sits up. “Can you take a photo of me and Mumma with the tree?” 

“I sure can.” Therese says, and Rindy perks up. 

“Mumma!” She calls, and Carol appears in the doorway. 

“Look who’s awake.” She smiles. “Do you want some hot chocolate?” 

Rindy nods. “Yes please! But Terry will take our photo first! By the tree!” 

“Will she?” Carol asks, and Rindy gets off the couch. 

“Yes yes! She said so.” She takes her mother by the hand and guides her over to the tree. 

“I think it would be best if you sat on the floor.” Therese instructs and Carol sits cross legged with Rindy in her lap. With care, Therese lines up the shot. “Say cheese.” She says, and Carol smiles elegantly. Rindy gives a half sleep-drunk grin that has Therese laughing when she clicks the shutter. 

“What’s your favourite colour?” She asks, still pointing the camera at the mother and daughter. 

“Green!” Rindy announces. 

“Mauve.” Carol answers. 

Therese captures another photo of them, two very different kinds of smiles on their faces. 

“What a lovely tree.” Florence says, stepping into the room. 

“Flo! Flo!” Rindy exclaims. “Will you take a photo please! I want Terry to be in one!” 

Florence looks to Therese for confirmation, and she holds out the camera for her. 

“Just press the shutter button.” Therese tells her. “Don’t worry about posing.” 

She goes and sits next to Carol, taking Rindy onto her lap when she clambers over to sit between them. Therese’s fuzzy jacket still swallows her but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. 

“Are you ready?” Florence asks. 

“Yes!” Rindy says, and Therese smiles, half a breath away from laughter. 

Florence captures a few photographs, but there is only one that undoubtedly has the most soul.Carol mid smile as she looks at Therese laughing, her hands spread out behind Rindy’s head as make-shift antlers, the headband just out of reach on the sofa, and Rindy, who in turn had been reduced to body-shaking giggles and leaned back so far against her mother that she had nearly fallen over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued comments, I love hearing what aspects of this story stand out to you. I recognize the return readers, and I value your input very much! Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: physical and emotional spousal abuse, the (false) implication of child sexual abuse, the use of homophobic slurs.  
> I am posting this hot off the presses, and thus very unedited. I hope your reading won't be compromised.

The sounds of quick feet and running water mix in Therese’s ears as she sits on Rindy’s bed admiring her stuffed animal collection. She gently strokes the soft back of a fluffy hedgehog toy, only one among perhaps a dozen of what Rindy calls her “zoo”. Her absolute favourite, which she has been trucking along with her since she announced that she wanted to show Therese her room, is a soft grey elephant with big open ears, and a kind looking face. 

Rindy holds out a corduroy patterned turtle for Therese, who puts down the hedgehog and takes the turtle from her. She admires it for a moment running her fingers over the rigid pattern of its shell. 

“What’s its name?” Therese asks, smiling when Rindy tugs at the hood of her ankle-length animal poncho towel— which according to Rindy, is a raccoon. 

“Slouch.” She says, holding out her hand. Therese passes her the turtle and Rindy takes it over to her kid-sized desk. “See, he slouches.” Rindy has made the turtle sit up on the desk, and indeed, it looks like it’s slouching. 

“How’d you come up with that name?” Therese asks, and hears the water stop running. 

“My daddy always says not to slouch, he wants me to have a good pasture.” Rindy says matter-of-factly. 

Carol leans against the door frame. “ _Posture_ , sweetie.” She corrects. “A _pasture_ is a big grassy field where sheep and cows like to hang out.” 

“I can have a good posture and pasture.” Rindy concludes, and puts down her elephant in the toy basket in favour of a sheep toy. “I want Yarn to hang out for bath time.” She says, and heads over to Carol, handing the toy off as she slips past into the washroom.

“Okay.” Carol agrees, and motions for Therese to follow. 

Therese crosses the room and leans against the bathroom doorframe, watching in amusement as Carol deposits the toy into a basket on the wall, in view of the tub. Rindy sits contentedly in her very bubbly bath, and grabs two squishy plastic toys out of a crate suctioned to the bath walls. One is an orange puffer fish and the other is a pink stingray. 

“Rindy likes letting her dry toys meet her bath toys.” Carol explains. “So they know she loves them all.” 

“That’s a nice thing to do.” Therese says, and Carol takes a seat on a stool next to the bathtub. She had taken off her brace, and rolled up both of her sleeves to help Rindy in the bath. 

“The dry scout tells the others that the bath is safe, cause the dry toys can’t come in.” Rindy explains, taking a cloth from her mother, dunking it in the hot bath and handing it back to her. 

Carol washes Rindy’s face gently, and dunks the cloth again to keep it nice and warm.

“What next?” Carol asks and Rindy makes a thinking face. 

“My back.” She says, and Carol rubs the cloth over her back in slow circles. 

“And now?” 

“Left arm.” She holds out her arm. 

They continue like that, until all of Rindy has been bathed town to her littlest toe, taking breaks to let Rindy get her ticklish giggles out or show Therese how she can go under water for a few seconds while she plugs her nose. Carol rubs some conditioner into her hair before washing it, and takes a comb to Rindy’s wet-darkened tresses. 

“You wouldn’t believe the tangles she gets.” Carol laughs, and works the comb through her daughter’s hair is tangle free. 

“Okay lean your head back.” Carol says, and pours a pitcher of water over Rindy’s hair, rinsing the conditioner out. 

She’s just picked up the shampoo when they hear a slight yelp and loud crash from downstairs. Carol puts down the shampoo bottle and stands, drying her hands on a towel. 

“Florence, is everything alright?” Carol calls. They hear a muttered curse. 

“Yes, sorry ma’am. I dropped two glasses.” Florence replies. 

“Are you hurt?” 

“I’ve just nicked my hand, do you know where you put the new first aid box?” 

Carol looks back at Therese. 

“Would you mind staying with her please?” She asks, and Therese nods.

“I could go help her.” Therese suggest.

“No no, there’s broken glass and you’re in your socks. I have shoes up here. Stay.” She gives her a reassuring smile. “Rindy I have to go help Florence, okay?” Carol waits for Rindy’s nod. 

“Terry can wash my hair, Mumma. I don’t mind.” Rindy says, ensconced with a purple starfish. 

Carol pats Therese’s arm. “Thank you.” 

Therese rolls up her sleeves and sits on the stool next to the tub, picking up the shampoo bottle and squeezing some onto her hand. 

“Ready?” She asks. 

“Yes.” 

 

~**~

 

Carol kneels on the floor in a pair of loafers, carefully picking up the larger pieces of glass off of the floor and placing them in a paper bag. Florence stands by the sink running her hand under the faucet. 

“I really can take care of this.” Florence says as she turns off the water, holding a cloth against a small cut that wells with blood but does not drip. 

“Your hand is cut, Florence.” Carol replies. “I can pick up a few big pieces and sweep. Once you’ve got a bandage on that cut you can vacuum the floor alright?”

“Alright.” She agrees. 

The front door opens, and Carol hears two heavy footsteps enter the foyer. 

“Carol?” It’s Hargess. 

“Daddy is that you?” She hears Rindy call from upstairs. 

“Yes it’s me.” He calls back. 

Carol clears her throat. “I’m in the kitchen, Harge!” She says, raising her voice so he’ll hear. 

His bootsteps approach and he appears in the doorway, a loud crunch sounding when he steps on an errant piece of glass. He looks down and steps back. 

“I guess I’ll have to sweep out there too.” Carol says. “Good thing you kept your boots on.” He never remembers to take them off at the front door. 

“Where is Rindy?” He asks.

“You heard her, she’s upstairs, in the bath.” Carol puts the last sizeable piece of glass into the paper bag, stepping carefully over to the utility closet for the broom. 

“You left her in the bath alone!?” He exclaims, stalking from the kitchen before Carol can speak again. 

“Harge!” She calls, watching the floor as she steps out of the room after him. He mutters something rude about a child drowning in a bathtub, and about neglectful mothers that she doesn’t fully catch. By the time she makes it to the front room he is already halfway up the stairs. “She isn’t alone!” She says sharply, but he keeps going. 

Therese hears the commotion before she hears the heavy footsteps on the stairs, still sitting on the the stool helping Rindy out of the bathtub to start drying off. She knows it’s Rindy’s father, because she had recognized him and called out to him. She’s just helped get Rindy’s raccoon towel over her head when the man opens the already ajar door making it bang against the side of the tub. 

“Daddy that was loud!” Rindy says crossly, letting Therese rub her down to start getting her dry. 

“Who are you?” He demands, an air of composure coming over him for the sake of his daughter. 

“Therese, I’m friends with Carol.” She tries to glance behind him but his stature makes that difficult. Therese can barely see past him. “You are?” She asks firmly. 

“Her father.” He says, and Therese can hear Carol come into Rindy’s room. 

“Harge.” She says disarmingly, and he clenches his jaw. “Rindy needs to get her pajamas on.” 

“I’m wearing the dinosaur ones tonight, Daddy.” She nudges his leg, and he holds a gentle but large hand over the back of her head. “You have to come see them.” 

He turns and lets Rindy go by, and she skips over to Carol who kneels and properly dries her the rest of the way off; neck to toes. 

“You often help your friends bathe their children?” He asks darkly and Therese reaches into the tub to retrieve two of the plastic toys Rindy forgot to put in their crate. She pulls the plug on the tub and the water starts to drain. 

“Florence broke a glass and Carol had to help her. I stayed with Rindy and we finished up with her bath.” Therese meets his gaze without falter. “But no, I wouldn’t say this is something I do often.” 

“You keep your hands off my child.” He says, lifting a hand to point at her menacingly. 

“Excuse me?” Therese asks skeptically. 

“Terry! Yarn is still in the basket!” Rindy calls.

“I know what your kind are like. You don’t touch her.” He shifts his posture blocking the door again. 

“Harge!” Carol calls again, a warning. 

“I’ll bring him for you.” Therese calls back to Rindy, getting she sheep down and stroking a hand over its fuzzy head. She meets Harge’s dagger stare again, taking a deep breath. “I think you’re confused. Please get out of my way.” 

He shifts sideway, only leaving a small amount of space for her to get by. She would not be able to get by without touching him. She waits. 

“Something the matter?” He asks. 

“You haven’t gotten out of the way.” Therese replies. “Rindy wants to show you her pajamas, why don’t you go take a look?” She sees a flash of anger on his face, but turns his back to her and walks over to where Carol is helping Rindy into some training underwear. She already has a long sleeve shirt on with different dinosaur designs all over it. 

“You let her be naked around strangers?” She hears Harge say gruffly, and watches him sit on her bed and pull Rindy over and pick up her pajama pants. 

“Terry isn’t stranger, Daddy. She’s our friend.” Rindy says, stepping into her pants that Harge helps her with, Carol perches at the edge of the bed with a few feet of space between them. “She picked the tree and helped us decorate and we took pictures and she has really _really_ fuzzy jacket that is so so soft! She let me wear it and I got to be a reindeer with my headband.” 

“Didn’t you want me to see your dinosaurs?” Harge interrupts. 

Therese takes a few deep breaths before going back into Rindy’s room. She makes a point to sit in the space between Harge and Carol, holding Rindy’s sheep on her lap. 

“There’s a t-rex on my back!” Rindy stage-whispers and turns around to show Harge. 

“Rindy, do you want Daddy to do bedtime?” Carol asks, putting a hand on Therese’s arm. 

“Oh yes!” Rindy says, and goes over to her bookshelf to pick a book. 

“A short one, Rindy.” Harge says, an inescapable hardness to his tone. Rindy gives a loud sigh and picks a book, and brings it back to her father. She holds it out to him and he lifts her onto his lap. 

“That’s not gonna work, silly!” She exclaims. 

“Sweetie do you wanna say bye to Terry?” Carol asks. “She’s gonna go home soon.” 

“You’re not sleeping over?” Rindy asks, suddenly dejected. She shifts to get off Harge’s lap but he holds her. 

“Just a day visit this time.” Therese says, clocking Rindy’s discomfort. 

“Daddy you’re holding me too tight.” She says, and he lets her go. Rindy steps over to Therese and opens her arm for a hug. 

Therese gives her a hug, taking her onto her lap and giving her a proper snuggle, while the sheep is squished between them. “I had a lot of fun today.” Therese says. 

“You gonna come over again?” Rindy asks, cheek pressed against Therese’s shoulder. 

“Absolutely.” She gives Rindy her undivided attention while she hugs her goodbye, and lets Rindy dictate when she wants it to end. 

“You bring your fuzzy jacket next time?” 

“Do you want that?” 

Rindy leans away nodding, a big grin plastered on her face. “Yes!” 

“Okay.” Therese gives her arm a little squeeze. “Now get in bed so Daddy can read to you.” She encourages and stands with Rindy still in her arms, and places her on the bed. 

Therese looks at Harge again, and feels a cold jolt in her stomach at the disgust and anger in his eyes. 

“Night Mumma! I love you.” Rindy says, leaning over to give Carol a peck on the cheek. 

“I love you too, baby. Sweet sweet dreams.” Carol kisses her forehead. 

Therese steps over to the door, with Carol in tow and watches Harge help Rindy get under the covers. 

“We’ll be downstairs.” Says Carol calmly and waits until Therese has slipped into the hall before pulling the door partially ajar behind her. 

 

~**~ 

 

The glass is cleaned up while Harge puts Rindy to bed, Therese had offered to take over for Carol with the swiffer when she’d finished vacuuming, and had found a pair of slippers to keep her feet safe as she passed the wet pad over the floor of the living room a few meters away from the kitchen, and into the kitchen. 

Therese doesn’t try to get Carol to talk, merely lets her go about making sure the glass is cleaned while Florence finished tidying the kitchen with a glove over her cut hand. Shortly, Florence announces her leave, taking the trash out as she goes out the back door in her coat and boots. Carol and Therese are alone, except for the heavy presence that prevents either of them from truly relaxing. 

“Would you like some tea?” Carol asks. She had left her wrist brace upstairs, both of her sleeves are still rolled up. 

Therese nods. It’s better than merely waiting. 

Within twenty minutes, Therese is half done her second mug, and Carol has barely finished her first. They hear Harge come down the stairs, without the clomp of boots this time. When he appears in the doorway, Therese could be fooled into believing his time with Rindy had softened him. Almost.

“You’re still here.” He says, clearly displeased about it. He holds his long coat over his arm and his boots in his other hand, the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and to Therese, if he had not spoken, he might have looked like a real father.

“Yes.” Therese replies. “There was still glass to clean up.” She adds casually, taking a sip of her tea.

“I need to speak to you.” He says to Carol, and turns his back to them, padding in his socks to the front door. Carol hesitates. He puts his boots by the door and hangs his coat on a hook. Harge glances back at her expectantly, as if she’s making him wait. 

“You don’t have to.” Therese says quietly and only for Carol. 

“I’ll be right back.” She assures, and goes over to Harge. 

Therese doesn’t move from the island, focusing her attention on the hushed conversation a room away. She can’t hear everything, but she can hear enough. 

“Who is that woman?” An accusation. 

“An artist I met at the January cover shoot.” An answer. 

“How long have you known her?” An interrogation.

“We met last Thursday.” An answer. 

“And you let a woman you have known _maybe_ four days be alone with Rindy in the bath?” 

“Therese has been nothing but kind and appropriate with Rindy.” 

“What do you know? I saw a strange woman _putting her hands_ on my naked daughter!” He hisses this at her. 

“You didn’t see a goddamn thing.” 

“Lawyers always put the kid’s safety first.” A reminder. A threat. “What do you think they’ll say about this huh— a mother leaving her toddler alone with a stranger, the father thinks he might’ve seen her tou—”

“Stop.” Carol raises her voice just a bit. 

“Keep your voice down.” A threat. “My mother arranged a surprise trip to Disneyland for us. I’m taking Rindy tonight. I already told her, she’s waiting for me to go finish packing her bag.” 

“You can’t just take Rindy on trips whenever you want!” Carol’s voice breaks. “You need to tell me these things in advance Harge!— What about my Holiday plans!?” 

“What about them, Carol? You have what— Abby?— this … _artist_? Rindy is going to spend some time with her grandparents before our fucking lawyers terminate my right to see her when I so please.”

“When will she be back?” 

“The twenty-sixth.”

There is a pause in their conversation and Therese is almost certain she has missed something, but she hears the floors creak and Carol sighs. 

“Go finish packing her bag.” 

Harge disappears up the stairs again, and as soon as his footsteps are far enough away, Therese gets up off her island chair, letting the feet scrape as she does and pads into the front room with an edge of urgency to her step. 

Carol’s eyes are red, and she looks on the brink of tears. Her complexion is paler than it had been all day, and her arms are crossed in front of her chest and her shoulders are slouched defeatedly. When she looks at Therese her expression is that of a wounded animal, and she doesn’t speak. Therese crosses the space between them and stands next to her, taking one of her hands which Carol grips tightly. 

It doesn’t take long for Harge to come back down with Rindy on his hip and her suitcase in his other hand and a carry-on bag under his arm. Carol lets go of Therese’s hand. He’d gotten Rindy into a somewhat baggy onesie with non-slip feet that she has zipped up over her pajamas. She looks sleepy but excited, and clutches the corduroy turtle. 

“Did you know about this surprise Mumma?” She mumbles, letting Harge sit her down on the bench. He puts down the luggage. Rindy yawns loudly, half asleep. 

“No this was a big surprise for me too.” Carol replies softly. Harge puts on his boots and coat, and then puts a light jacket on Rindy. He scoops her up again, only this time she lays her head on his shoulder and cuddles up to him. The sigh makes Therese’s belly ache. 

“He says we’re going in an airplane.” She mumbles. 

Harge motions at Carol and then to the bags on the floor. 

“You will be on a plane, baby.” Carol says, reaching for the suitcase. Instinctively, Therese reaches for the carry-on, but Harge makes a sharp gesture that makes Therese jump— he jabs his finger at her, a vein at his temple standing out on his forehead. 

“ _Not you_.” He whispers. Therese hands Carol the carry-on. “Come get your daughter into her car seat.” He says, and the look he gives Therese tells her well enough that he doesn’t want her to follow. 

Carol goes outside with Harge and Rindy, but leaves the door slightly ajar. Therese lingers, blood boiling as she watches them. _Hypocrite_ , she thinks, biting her own tongue. Harge takes a bag from Carol and she opens the car door. He leans in and gets Rindy into her car seat, then takes the other bag from Carol and walks around the car to the other side while Carol leans in and does the straps up. She can see Harge put the bags in, and watches Carol tuck a blanket around Rindy. 

The soft sounds of classical music reaches Therese’s ears and makes her realize that Harge had put some music on for Rindy. Therese steps away, out of sight but in ear shot when he sees Carol start back toward the door with Harge behind her. When they’re close enough she can hear them. 

“There’s a ticket for you.” Harge says, and Carol stops. 

“I’m not going to Disneyland with your family.” She says. 

“Perfect opportunity to show the lawyers we can get along for her sake.” 

“No, Harge. Take your time with her. I’m not coming.” 

“You can’t _wait_ for this custody thing to get settled can you?” Another accusation. 

“Harge—"

"You can’t wait to have my custody revoked, to start poisoning her against me.” 

“Let go!” 

Therese steps back into the doorway, and sees Harge’s large hand gripping Carol’s injured wrist too tightly. Carol has her other hand on his arm, trying to get him to let go. He gestures at her, and Therese knows a spring winding up when she sees one. 

“I have never said a bad thing about you to her.” Carol bites back, voice a hair away from pleading. 

“What about that _bitch_ inside? I didn’t like how she looked at me— did you run your mouth to her?” 

“Let go of my arm.” 

“Do you really think it’s cut and dry? That my lawyer can’t find some way to keep my child away from her lying _faggot_ mother?— _What have you said to her_!” He raises his voice, getting in Carol’s face as she leans away from him. 

“Hey!” Therese barks, shoving the door open and stepping out onto the. Carol jabs Harge in the arm, near the triceps, making him release her wrist. But as he turns suddenly, to face Therese and attempt to stalk toward her, he loses his footing on the first step and stumbles backward and lands on his ass on the stone driveway. 

“Carol, come here.” Therese says, firmly but gently when she notices Carol freeze on the door step. Carol manages to step over to her mechanically, and when she’s this close it’s obvious to Therese that Carol is shaking. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Harge demands as he stands, sweat beading on his forehead, that angry vein straining by his temple. 

“You need to _leave_.” Therese stares him down. 

“This isn’t any of your fucking business.” He takes a step toward them and Therese steps back, a shield in front of Carol. 

“Your daughter is waiting for you.” 

Harge jabs his finger in Carol’s direction, taking a step toward his car. “You and I are going to have a conve—”

“ _You need to leave_.” Therese interrupts, raising her voice again. 

He waves his hand dismissively and turns his back to them, stalking toward his car. He gets in and shuts the door hard enough that it shakes the vehicle. Once the engine starts and he starts pulling away, Therese turns her back to the driveway and puts a hand on Carol’s shoulder, guiding her back inside. 

When the door shuts behind them, Therese locks it. Carol faces away from her, arms still held in front of her, cradling her right wrist with her left hand. She’s still shaking, and Therese can knows the beginnings of a panic attack when she sees one. 

“Carol—”

“Can you get my write brace please? It’s still in the bathroom.” 

A silence resonates between them. 

“Alright.” Therese agrees. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” 

 

~**~ 

 

When Therese returns to the kitchen with Carol’s wrist brace, she is rifling through kitchen drawers with one hand, tossing a few things onto the counter as she searches. 

“You think everything is going great, and then you can’t even find your fucking cigarettes.” She says, slamming one drawer shut and covers her eyes with her hand, she’s still shaking as she leans against the counter. 

“How long ago did you quit?” Therese asks, coming over to her and holding out the brace. Carol takes it and places it on the counter next to her, picking up an ice bag instead, which she holds over her wrist. 

“Three months ago. When the divorce was finalized.” 

Therese steps closer, and though Carol keeps her gaze down, she accepts Therese cradling her right wrist and holding the ice bag over it for her. Therese strokes her thumb over Carol’s skin, and watches her face. Carol has been keeping her composure from the moment Harge arrived, and now that resolve has begun to fracture, her lip quivering. 

“Is she safe with him?” Therese asks quietly. Carol takes a shaky breath, and a tear drips down her cheek. 

“Yes. He wouldn’t hurt her.” Her voice cracks. “He wants her to like him better. So she’ll want to see him.” 

“I’m sorry.” Therese says. 

“Thank you— thank you.” Carol bites out, giving Therese’s hand a squeeze. “For what you did.”

She sucks in a series of too fast breaths before turning away from Therese and forcing herself to inhale a substantial amount of air. Therese watches Carol fight against a panic attack, and puts the ice bag on the counter. 

“I have something that will help.” Therese offers, and Carol watches her head out to the front hall where she’d left her camera bag. “Since you mentioned cigarettes.” 

“Florence must have thrown them out.” Carol mutters, and Therese returns with her vaporizer case in hand. 

“Take a few pulls from this when the light turns green.” Therese says, unzipping the case and holding up the pen. She turns it on and hands it to Carol. 

“What is it?” She asks, watching the blue light softly pulsing as the pen heats up. 

“Like aromatherapy with a concentrate of high CBD cannabis.” She explains. “It helps with reducing pain, inflammation, and stress or anxiety.”

The light turns green and Carol brings the pen to her lips, taking a slow and long pull. The vapour clouds around her as she exhales. 

“That’s nice.” Carol nods, bringing the pen back to her lips and taking another pull. 

“Are you alright? Do you have someone you can call… or someone who can be with you?” The words spill from Therese’s lips all at once. Carol finally looks at her, really looking at her. 

“No. I’m fine.” She says, but Therese doesn’t fully believe it. Carol sees that skepticism and clears her throat. “I have someone I could call, if I need to.” 

“You’re sure.” 

“Yes. I’m sorry you had to see that.” She says, taking another pull off the pen and handing it back to Therese. 

“Keep it— for now.” Therese says, pushing the case over to her. “You can give it back to me the next time you see me.” 

“You want to see me again?” 

“Yes.” 

“I should get you home.” She says, clearing her throat. 

“You don’t have to. I can get a cab to the train station.” Therese replies. 

“At least let me pay for it.” Carol insists. 

“Alright.” 

They don’t exchange goodbyes when the cab arrives outside Carol’s house. And to Therese that feels somehow more horrible than a goodbye. Her chest feels tight and her eyes sting the moment she is alone, a hair away from crying in the shadowy back seat of the cab, and then the dim cabin of the train. 

“I had a wonderful time with you and Rindy today.” She’d told Carol on her front stoop when the cab had pulled up. And Carol had merely smiled, a sad and tired sort of smile, and thanked her again. 

Therese had never liked the quiet of night. She was an early riser, and slept quite early most nights. Her apartment is dark when she gets in, dropping her keys on the dresser and hanging up her coat in a mechanical way, overwhelmed by that ache. These tears aren’t like the ones from earlier. These merely fall. Feeling heavy like a weighted blanket. They feel like grief. 

Therese closes her eyes and feels the tears hot on her cheeks, standing in the darkness of her apartment, with only the city lights breaking through her curtains to give her any sense of the space. She had kept an ugly fear tamped down and at the back of her very being— and she wonders what kind of emotions must have been swimming through Carol’s mind and body, if only an hour with that man had filled Therese with such anger, and fear and protectiveness over a child and woman she had only just met. 

She takes one step further into the apartment, and feels the cold floor beneath her socked feet. Her phone buzzes in her coat pocket and she turns around, the vibrations seem deafening at this late hour. She forces herself to take the few steps back to the coat rack to get it. 

“Hello—” She answers, voice betraying her emotion. 

“Therese.” It’s Carol. 

“Hi.” She says quietly, feeling her eyes sting some more. 

“You got home alright?” 

Therese swallows, and clears her throat. “Just got in.” 

She hears Carol sigh. 

“I wanted to… I wanted to see if you meant it.” She says. 

“What?” Therese asks. 

“If you wanted to see me again.” 

“I want to see you again.” Therese closes her eyes. 

“I want to see you too.” The admission sends a chill up Therese’s spine.

“I want to _know you_.” Therese adds, which is scarier to her than anything else. 

“Spend Christmas with me.” Carol says, and Therese lets out a heavy breath. 

“Come see me on Tuesday.” She breathes. “I’ll show you my apartment— my art.” 

“What time?” 

“Early. I don’t care.” 

“I’ll come at eleven.” Carol concludes. 

“Okay.” Therese feels breathless. 

“Therese… I…” She can picture Carol’s pensive breath in her mind’s eye, a slow rise and fall of her chest. “I want… to ask you things… but I don’t—” 

“Ask.” Therese says, wiping her cheeks on her sleeve. She walks over to her sofa, laying down and staring up at the dark ceiling. “Ask me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued comments! I find them all very encouraging.


	8. Chapter 8

Therese digs through the wide filing cabinet on which her printer sits. She is searching through the second drawer, piling long plastic folders on the floor beside her as she tries to get to the back of the drawer. There she has a small stock of printer paper, some office supplies and an unopened package of sticky note pads. Her self restraint does allow her to put everything back in its place before moving on to the next drawer.

She makes a triumphant sound when she finds what she’s looking for. Photographic paper. She takes out the package of five by seven photographs and stands, going over to the nearest flat surface to feed a bunch into her printer. Once it’s set up, she steps back over to her laptop which is sitting on her coffee table. Therese sits down on a cushion and wakes her laptop, drawing her fingers over the track pad and clicking her way into a photo editor. 

One by one a new photograph is printed. The two from the tree lot that she had taken of Carol in secret, and the two of Carol posing after they’d chosen a tree. And then one of Rindy asleep on the sofa with the lights from the tree shining on her, one of the tree itself. And then of Rindy and Carol posing in front of the decorated Christmas tree. The last two she prints are among the ones Florence had taken; one when she had first sat down, posed, and other— the last one Florence had taken when Rindy had realized she didn’t have her antlers and Therese had made her giggle by spreading her fingers wide and having them as replacement antlers. 

Therese carefully removes them from the printing tray and sets them in a row on the table in front of her, careful not to smudge any while they’re still fresh. 

On a whim she finds a small notebook among her things and tears two pages from it, sits down with a pen and writes something out them— a letter, two. One for each of the secret photographs, describing exactly what she saw and what it made her think about. Therese writes about the intimacy of seeing Carol alone with herself, calm, and then of seeing her joyful reaction to the snow fall. She draws words into the heart felt sentences and hopes they make a lick of sense because she means every word of them. 

When she’s finished she feels restless, and fights the urge to tear the letters up and throw them away. Instead she gets up and goes over to her phone, finding a number in her contacts and sending a message. 

TERRY: Hi Danny I’m headed to your neck of the woods to run some errands, do you want to join me? 

She sets her phone on the island and goes to her fridge, taking out a tupperware of berries. Therese pops a few in her mouth and leans over on the island, picking up her phone again to check her work email for any orders. There are two new ones. She had already put up her Holiday Announcement, no new orders would be shipped until after the new year. To give herself some time to create more art. 

When she clicks the first order read it fully, at call suddenly comes in. She answers it. 

“Hello—” 

“Terry, hey.” It’s Danny. “You need an errand buddy?” 

Therese laughs. “Yeah, I’m going to the art store that’s a few blocks from your place— you’re off for the Holidays right?” 

“I am. When do you want to meet up?” 

“I’ll be ready to go within the hour.” She checks the time on the stove digital clock.

“Text me when you’re leaving, okay?” He asks. 

“Will do.” 

 

~**~ 

 

Therese pushes a small cart through the aisles of the art store, her big scarf, gloves and nested in the child’s seat. She’d drawn her hair up in a quick bun, and donned her blue hoodie with her own art printed on it, under her long coat. She wore the same jeans from the day before. She has her list crumpled in her hand as she guides the cart, eyes scanning the shelves. 

“Terry!” 

She looks over her shoulder and spots Danny giving a light jog over to her. 

“Hey.” She greets, and accepts his half hug. 

“What are we looking for?” He asks, and she offers him her list. He reads over it with interest. “As good a list as any.” He says with a tone of satisfaction. 

“How’s your sister?” Therese asks, letting him keep the paper for now. She pauses the cart and inspects a wall of different sized paper types. She takes down two large, twenty four by thirty six posters; four twenty two by twenty eight posters; and six eighteen by twenty four posters, and carefully places them all in her cart. 

“She good! Always seems to be further boggled by how big her belly can get.” He laughs. “She felt huge at twenty weeks, and now she’ll have that baby in January.” 

“When is she due?” Therese starts pushing the cart again, turning the corner. 

“Could technically go into labour any time. But the doctors told her January eighth.” 

“You gonna be with her at the hospital?” She scans the shelves, finding another item on her list. Therese pauses again and takes two packages of droppers off the shelf, comparing the two. 

“They’re having a home birth. But yeah I’ll be there.” He says. “They’ve got themselves an inflatable pool for her, and a midwife.” 

“Oh, that’ll be special.” Therese chooses one of the packages of droppers, putting it in her cart. “Are you excited?” 

“Of course!” He beams, walking at pace with Therese. “I wouldn’t have been able to tell you a year ago that I’d be seeing little baby items everywhere I went, and I’m not even a dad, I’m just an uncle.” 

“That’s kid is gonna be real well loved.” She grins at him. 

He gives a thoughtful nod. “Oh hey— you got a pen? I can cross stuff off for you.” 

“Sure.” She stops and fishes a pen out of her bag, handing it to him.

“Great, so you got paper, and those…?”

“Droppers.” 

“Right.” He crosses them off. “Now what?” 

“Sponges.” Therese says, pointing a section ahead of them. Danny dances over head of her, and looks over them playfully. 

“What could you need sponges for?” He asks curiously. 

“Paint application.” Therese shrugs. “I like the texture they create.” She points at two different packages of the same brand. A four pack of smaller sponges, and a two pack of larger ones. 

“These?” He takes them down for her, placing them in the cart.

“Now I need frames.” Therese says determinedly. And starts toward the aisle she needs. 

Danny walks with her and dutifully checks off sponges and frames while Therese takes her time picking them out. For her art pieces she already knows what she’s getting; all of her customers had a choice, just the painting, sent in a plastic sleeve and poster tube, or framed in a simple, sturdy frame, in white or black, in a box with bubblewrap.

She gets those in her cart in no time, but she lingers in her choice for the photographs. It hadn’t been on her plan, but she wants to frame the photos she’d printed, she wants to give them to Carol. Therese closes her eyes, trying to picture the photographs nested in the frames, behind the glass, sitting on a shelf in a home that had enough room to display them. 

“You’re thinking pretty hard about those frames.” Danny says, and she opens her eyes, the tenderness in his voice bringing a smile to her lips. 

“They’re for a gift.” She replies. “I took someone’s pictures, and I want to give them to her.” 

“How many photos do you want to frame?” 

“Five. I think a one-picture frame, and a two-picture frame would be good.” 

Danny comes over and looks over the assortment of frames. His motions to a set she hadn’t noticed yet. 

“These all match.” He says, and Therese steps over and picks one up. They have off-white cardboard matting, and a black wood frame, they aren’t too bulky either. She nods. 

“Yeah I like this.” She takes the back off the frame and looks at the little space to slide the photos in and keep them in place. “These are great, thank you.” 

“Any time.” He laughs lightly. 

The frames make their way into the cart, and they’re off again. 

“Any chance I know the girl whose getting this gift?” Danny asks, giving Therese a teasing smile. 

Therese shakes her head. “No. She wouldn’t be in our circles.” She gives a breath of a laugh. 

“Friend of Rick’s?” 

She gives an involuntary huff. “I broke up with Rick.” Therese admits. 

“Oh.” 

Therese rubs at her neck, embarrassed. “I met her at the photoshoot on Thursday.” She says, feeling as though her nervous butterflies are more like panicked moths knocking about in her belly. She wants to talk about Carol, but these wants make her feel dizzy. 

“You’re alright though?” Danny asks, about the break up. 

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “Haven’t spoken to him since Saturday. Giving him a bit of space.” 

“Good terms?” 

“I think so.” 

They stop in front of paints, and Therese takes a deep breath. She reaches for a few bottles— remembering which replacements she needs from her list, and drops them into the cart. And then she chooses a gold metallic paint, and a soft blue, and maroon. Finally she comes to a wall of pinks, gaze darting from option to option. 

“You look like a kid in a candy store.” Danny laughs, and Therese realizes how she is clutching the paints to her chest as she searches. 

“I have something in mind, that I’d like to paint.” She says, putting the paints into the cart and holding out a hand scanning the more orangey pinks, until she finds a few she thinks are close. “Can I see my list?” She asks.

Danny hands it to her, and she glances at the colour swatch she had made. Therese takes two bottles from the shelf, folds the paper and holds it up next to the bottles. She replaces one of them. 

“Got it.” She says satisfactorily. 

“That’s very specific.” He says with a smile. 

Therese’s cheeks burn a little, unsure of what Danny would think if she told him it was a lipstick shade— the lipstick shade of the woman she was already preparing a gift for. 

“It reminds me of someone.” She says. 

“Anything left?” 

“Yeah, gotta get the boxes and bubble wrap for the pieces I’m going to ship later.” 

“Those are near the front of the store.” He says. “I saw them when I came in.” 

“Great.” Therese guides the cart onward, tucking the list among her nest of items in the child seat. 

“Terry—” he has a sheepish expression on his face. “You don’t have to share anything with me… but you seem to have a lot on your mind, and I can tell it’s not about Rick.” 

She merely nods, letting him go on. 

“I won’t judge you or make fun of what you for anything you have to say… I just wanna know you’re alright.”

However embarrassed he seems, Therese is touched by the gesture. 

“Thank you.” She says, and really means it. She pauses and takes a breath, words coming out in a low, private tone. “The woman I’m framing the photos for… I visited her yesterday, and her ex husband showed up— he was… bad.” 

Therese rubs her neck again. “He said some horrible things about me, and he doesn’t even know me… and I was really scared, but more for her because he directed all that malice at her, and I really think if I hadn’t been there… he… he gripped her arm so hard, and got— got all in her face… he almost hit her— called her a…” 

Her brows knit in a revelatory and confused frown. 

“What, Terry?” Danny says gently, putting a reassuring hand on her arm. 

“He called her a ‘ _lying faggot_ ’.” She whispers, and even Danny bristles at the use of the word. 

“She doesn’t have a restraining order against him?” He asks. 

“No. They’re sorting out custody— I don’t know the details.” Therese sighs, feeling helpless. 

Danny seems pensive. Therese finishes putting boxes and poster tubes into the cart. 

Therese puts a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for listening, but you don’t have to worry. He’s out of town now.”

“That’s mildly reassuring.” Danny replies a bit flatly. They arrive at an available cash, and he starts helping her get the smaller items onto the conveyor belt. “The painting is gonna be for her isn’t it?” He says knowingly. 

Therese smiles, nodding. “Yeah, it is.”

 

~**~

 

Therese trudges up the street with a large portfolio bag over her shoulder, breathing a little heavily. The pharmacy and post-office is within sight but she’s already been walking a few blocks already. The five items she needs to ship are not heavy on their own, but in frames and in their boxes, in her large and awkward-to-carry bag, the about ten pounds they make up has her shoulder aching a little. 

The automatic doors open before her, and she makes her way into the store, heading toward the mail section. There’s a small line, so she takes she shoulder strap off and leans the portfolio bag on the floor against her leg. Therese catches her breath and finds herself looking around, tomorrow is Christmas Eve and the shoppers she can see are among the last-minute types, trying to find stocking-stuffers, and gift cards. 

A little black girl with two curly puffy buns in her hair bursts into giggles when her mother accidentally turns on a singing animatronic bear toy. Is does a little dance and sings jingle bells in a tingy voice. 

“Mommy turn it off!” She laughs. Therese thinks the girl might be about Rindy’s age, maybe younger. As she waits in line, she watches the little girl stand next to her mother’s leg while she looks over items on the shelf. 

The little girl looks at Therese noticing her very big bag, and Therese smiles at her and sticks out her tongue, making the girl laugh. Another woman comes around the corner and speaks to the girl’s mother. The little girl squeezes past and tugs on the new woman’s coat. 

“Ma look.” Therese can hear the girl say, the girl points in her direction. “The big bag!” 

Therese gives her a little wave, and meets the woman’s gaze smiling amusedly. 

“That’s for art, sweetie. Big like your posters.” She hears her say, and scoops the little girl up. The two women exchange a brief kiss, and Therese turns away, hearing the little girl’s laugher again. She faces the front of the line again, cheeks burning, and heart kicking in her chest. 

She hadn’t been paying attention, she hadn’t been _listening_ to his words, she’d only been looking out for Carol’s safety when she stepped in, she hadn’t processed what he’d said. He called her a lying… 

“Oh god.” Therese whispers to herself, closing her eyes for a few brief seconds and taking a deep breath. “I’m such an idiot.” 

They had divorced. He had insinuated that he knew about “women like her”— accused Therese of _touching_ Rindy… and the slur he’d used against Carol. He wasn’t just a vile, abusive man. He was a homophobe. 

Which meant Carol had to be attracted to women. 

“Next, please!” The clerk at the mail desk calls, and Therese hauls her portfolio bag to the counter. 

“I have five items I need to have shipped.” She says, breathless but not from the weight of the bag. 

“Sure thing, if you bring those over to the side we can have them weighed and registered.” 

The items are processed and Therese expects the price, she’s had plenty of art shipped to customers, and her rates are fairly consistent. She takes the tracking numbers, and the receipts and stands to the side to fold her portfolio bag into something more manageable, and heads back out of the store into the cold December air. 

She walks, back the way she came, not caring that it would take her half an hour to get home on foot. The bus had cut that in half, but she had been carrying twenty pounds of real weight. Now that weight is all emotional. Residue from the last week scraped up from that place in the back of her psyche where she liked to dump all the ugly emotions she didn’t want to deal with. 

But this wasn’t just residue, this is fresh, a realization that feels vile and rewarding all at once. Like finding a sandwich with everything you want in it, still safe in a take away box, in a garbage can. In this case her mind is the garbage can, but she doesn’t exactly know what she was searching for in the first place. Or rather if it had found her instead. 

Therese realizes she’s passing the shop where she bought her vaporizer. She pauses, looking at the bay windows covered with decals, the logo, and thinks about how she lent her pen to Carol. 

She goes inside.

 

~**~

 

Therese’s phone starts buzzing just as she is about to be handed her purchase across the counter. She fishes it out of her pocket and sees that it is Rick. With a small sigh she answer it, bringing it to her ear. 

“Hi Rick.” She greets. 

“Hey Terry.” He seems reserved, not his usual light personality. “Are you out?” 

Therese takes her purchase from the cashier and give a nod of thanks, it’s in a cute black gift bag. “Yes I’ve been running errands. Danny joined me while I did my art store run.” 

“Oh, how’s he doing?” 

She pushes the door open and steps outside. “Still excited about his pending uncle-dom.” 

“So you got those orders shipped?” 

“Yeah finally. They weighed like ten pounds, made my shoulder ache getting them to the post office.” 

“I hope you didn’t walk all that way.” He half scolds, worried about her.

“I took the bus most of the way there.” She assures. 

Rick pauses, clearing his throat. “So how are you doing?” 

“I’m alright.” She stops at an intersection, scrunches up her face with distaste. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“I was wondering about something.” Rick says, kind of like question. 

“Uh huh?” The white pedestrian light blinks on and she steps out into the street. 

Therese hears him give a slight laugh, it sounds self-deprecating. “I haven’t told Mama we’re… over.” 

“Oh…” She reaches the sidewalk, not liking this conversation already. 

“But I did talk to her… uh— about those things you didn’t like. A serious conversation.” 

His earnestness makes her feel vaguely queasy. “Okay.” 

“So I was kind of hoping you might reconsider coming to dinner tomorrow night? She said she’ll behave herself. I know it’s probably unfair, but I told her you didn’t like coming over ‘cause of how she acted, and that really made her think.” 

She wishes he’d had that talk with his mother weeks and weeks ago. She wishes perhaps that she’d realized she wasn’t happy earlier to spare him the embarrassment of not bringing his girlfriend to Holiday dinner… 

“Thank you…” Therese says, and means it, because he had considered her discomfort and done something to fix it. “But I have plans over the twenty fourth and twenty fifth.” She immediately regrets telling him because she hadn’t had plans when she had turned him down two days earlier. 

“With who?” He sounds surprised. 

“Someone I met at the photoshoot… she’s alone so we decided… to spend it together.” She still wants to keep Carol to herself. This special secret person. 

“You didn’t mention her.” He sounds disappointed with a touch of reproach.

“I didn’t. Sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologize.” He says. “Other things came up.” 

“I really do appreciate that you talked to her though.” Therese looks both ways at the next intersection, and quickly crosses another street. 

“I said I would.” He sounds like he’s shrugging. 

“Yeah, but given the circumstances.” 

“I know.” 

“Sorry.” 

“You don’t…” He sighs. 

“Force of habit.” Her tone is apologetic. 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you going to be alright?” She asks. 

“Oh sure.” He sounds genuine. “I… I don’t feel _single yet_.” He laughs. “It’s a change of routine more than anything. A bit disorienting. I’ll adapt.” 

“We’ll adapt.” She offers. 

“Because that’s what friends do.” 

“Yes it is.” 

He’s quiet for a few beats. Therese can hear him breathing. 

“Still there?” A car blaring its horn passes by, making Therese jump and stumble when she looks after it over her shoulder.

“Geez that was loud!”

“No kidding— startled me.” She breathes a laugh. 

“Hey… thank you for taking the time to talk.” 

“You’re welcome.” She replies. “Have a good time with your family.”

“Thanks Terry, have a good time with your friend— talk to you soon?” 

“Talk to you soon.” 

They hang up, and Therese draws her phone away from her ear. She wipes the screen against her coat, and draws her sleeve over her the skin of her face by her ear. Somehow holding her phone there for even a brief conversation ends up with the screen slick with sweat. 

She makes the walk home in a timely manner, glad to shed her coat and turn on her space heater. The items she bought earlier sit on her island, still in shopping bags, and Therese goes over to them with the small black gift bag hanging from her wrist. She takes out the photo frames she bought and carries them over to her coffee table where she sets them and the bag down. 

Therese carefully removes the backs of the frames, and slides each photo into place. 

In one of the two-picture frame she slides the photos of Carol in front of their tree before they’d brought it home, and hidden behind them she slides the two she had taken in secret, and the letters she wrote. 

In another she slides the photo of Rindy sleeping and one of the shots she took of the Christmas tree fully decorated, side by side. 

In a single-picture frame she slips the more posed photograph she’d taken of Rindy and Carol, and the more candid one behind it. 

She fits the posed and and unposed photos of the three of them into the last frame, smiling at the difference between the two, one above the other. It’s an attractive presentation. 

Therese stands and makes her way over to one of her storage boxes, rifling through it until she finds a gift box the right size; matte navy blue. She plucks out white sparkly tissue paper and a green bow, as well as a pretty brown paper gift tag for good measure. 

She wraps the frames in the tissue paper and places each inside the box. From the pretty black gift bag she withdraws her purchase, which she had had gift wrapped in silver snow-flake pattern paper, and places it in the box as well. The final touch is the bow and the gift tag, which Therese carefully writes out: 

Carol,  
I hope these lift your Holiday Spirits as much as they have lifted mine.  
Merry Christmas,  
Therese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always surprised with how this story unwinds while I'm working with the outline. It's an adventure to write. Thank you for your continued comments!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter like less than 10 minutes ago. I have to get to bed bc I have an early appointment, but I live for that sweet sweet validation that you all keep bringing me, so I couldn't possibly wait to post it. I do hope there aren't too many typos.

She’d gotten a call just as she was arriving outside of Therese’s apartment. Carol clicks a button on the steering wheel to answer it as she finds a parking space. 

“Harge.” She greets. 

“Where is Rindy’s elephant?” He asks, verging well into demanding. 

“Her toy chest, next to her bed.” Carol replies, to the point. 

“Thanks for not telling me she needed it.” His tone is accusatory. “She’s been up two nights in a row because the corduroy turtle isn’t her favourite.” 

“You packed her bag.” Carol reminds. “You didn’t ask. And you left within half an hour of telling me your surprise trip even existed Harge— don’t start _blaming me_ for your poor planning.” 

“My father is arranging for someone to pick up the elephant personally.” He warns. “Would you make sure he gets it.” 

Carol sighs. “I’m not home— I won’t be home.” 

“You make everything so goddamn difficult.” He raises his voice, making the sound tinny.

“They can get a key from Florence, she lives ten minutes away.” Carol replies flatly. 

Her attention is drawn to her rear view mirror, where she sees Therese hurrying up the sidewalk with four reusable shopping bags in her arms. She is wearing her long charcoal coat and black scarf, and has on a white knit sweater and a different pair of jeans than the last pair she’d seen. Carol sees her check her watch and look up and down the street. It occurs to Carol that she’s late again, nearing ten minutes so. Therese doesn’t seem to notice Carol’s car, and heads inside. 

“What could you possibly be doing that is keeping you out on Christmas Eve?” 

“Do you think I’m going to mope around the house since you took Rindy?” She asks, a touch of anger in her voice.

“You’d better not be with that girl—” 

“It’s none of your fucking business, Harge!”

He’s quiet for a beat, she can hear him breathing.

“You need to work on how you speak to me.” 

Carol laughs, a hysterical kind of sound. “I think you should take your own advice.” 

“You haven’t done a thing to earn my respect sinc—” 

She hangs up on him, and slams her right hand against the steering wheel, making it honk. Carol sucks in a sharp breath and clutches her wrist. 

“Fuck.” She breathes.

Inside, Therese runs a brush hurriedly through her hair, setting it down once there are no tangles, and reaches for a wash cloth that she wets under the steamy faucet. She presses it to her face and takes a deep breath, giving her face a quick refreshing once over. Therese redoes her hair into a simple bun, and smooths her hands over her white wool sweater, and then over her sleeves, which have a green leaf pattern all the way down to the hem of her sleeve. 

She leaves the washroom and goes back over to the kitchen area. Therese opens the fridge, and starts putting her groceries away as quickly as she can. She can’t go quickly enough though, because someone knocks on her door and she gives a little jump. With a heavy exhalation, Therese dances over to the door in wool-socked feet and opens it. 

“Hi.” Therese greets with an eager smile. 

“Hi.” Carol replies, and steps inside, her own smile affected by the contagiousness of Therese’s 

Therese shut the door and locks it, holding out a hand. 

“It’s nice to see you again— let me get your bag.” 

“Thank you.” Carol hands her her bag and Therese brings it over to the island as Carol shrugs out of her coat. “It’s nice to see you too.” 

Carol adjusts her wrist brace and flexes her hand, and Therese motions for her to follow her. 

“Come in, would you like some coffee? Or tea?” 

“Some coffee sounds lovely.” Carol replies, and takes a seat at the island, taking her bag and putting it on the seat next to her. 

Therese goes about the coffee-making process, getting out the reusable funnel, and the grounds from the freezer, and puts away more of her groceries while the kettle is boiling. It doesn’t take her long to finish putting things away and before the kettle is finished she scoops two mug’s worth of grounds into the funnel and puts the container back in the freezer. 

“Why do you keep it in the freezer?” Carol asks curiously. 

“Keeps them fresher longer, and I don’t drink it very often.” Therese replies, pouring the boiling water over the funnel and letting the rich brown liquid filter into the carafe. 

Therese motions to the jars and containers along the counter. “There’s sugar in that tin there… and if you take milk there’s some in the fridge.” She rubs her neck. “I invited you to see my art, so I should probably put some out for you to look at.” 

Carol laughs. “I won’t look. I promise.” 

“I hope not.” Therese mock-scolds, and starts over to her work space. 

She looks back at Carol and bursts into giggles seeing her covering her eyes with one hand and peaking through her fingers. Carol slips out of her chair to the waiting coffee on the counter, a hair away from laughter herself.

“No looking.” Therese reminds. 

“Nope, none at all!” 

 

~**~

 

Carol hugs her half-empty mug of coffee as she looks at one of Therese’s medium pieces. It is a summery piece with yellow and blue, a metallic silver, white and a dark grey. In spots the painting has an oil slick appearance. The dark grey is almost patterned, and looks like a blacktop, while the other colours seem far more whimsical. 

“… like day dreams.” Carol says, tilting her head. “How did you get this texture… it looks like a fresh asphalt.” 

“A sponge.” Therese says, standing next to her with a proud smile on her face. “I laid a darker grey and black down without mixing them completely and then went over that with a dry sponge, and then another sponge dipped in clear iridescent paint, and patted it over the greys.” She nods to herself, remembering the process. 

Carol looks at her with a smile, noticing Therese’s distant look. 

“I like it.” She says, and Therese looks at her, smiling sheepishly. 

“You said that about the others as well.” 

“I like them all.” She insists, glancing at the leaves knitted into Therese’s sweater sleeves. “But you know what I really like?” 

“What?” Therese raises a brow. 

Carol lifts and hand and runs it over the leaf pattern. “I like this a lot, it’s very cute— and looks very warm.” 

“It is.” Therese’s eyes widen. “You’re not cold are you?” She asks. 

“No— I’m fine.” But she’s taken by a slight shiver. 

“Let me get you a sweater!” Therese exclaims, rushing over to her armoire and tugging its large drawer open. 

“I’m fine really, if we sit by the space heater…” 

But Therese has already pulled out another wool sweater, pink and… when Therese places it in Carol’s hands, she discovers that it is incredibly soft. 

“Oh—” 

“It’s nice isn’t it.” 

“Very.” Carol hands Therese her coffee mug and puts the sweater on over her shirt. 

“It looks good on you.” Therese says, handing Carol her coffee back. “It brings out your freckles.” 

Carol raises a brow in surprise, cheeks colouring. She takes a sip to hide the flush. Therese’s own cheeks and nose turn red and she laughs. 

“Anything else?” Carol asks, picking on her just a little. 

Therese hesitates just a little, feeling her gaze on her to intently as she looks over Carol’s features; eyes, nose, lips, cheeks, hair. “Your eyes too.”

“The eye of an artist— it’s charming.” 

“You’re just easy on them.” The words slip right off her tongue. 

Carol lets out a breath of a laugh as Therese starts putting her art pieces away. 

“You think so?” Carol asks, watching Therese with an affectionate gaze. 

“Pardon?” 

“You think I’m easy on the eyes.” 

Therese seems to get even more embarrassed and grins as she covers her forehead with her hand. 

“I think you’re magnificent.” She breathes, like it’s the simplest statement conceivable. 

Therese turns away from Carol, feeling almost dizzy as she puts her art away, taking a few silent but deep breaths. Even with her back to Carol she can tell she’s still watching her, those searching, intense eyes. A tiny spark of panic tries to turn itself into a flame— the worry that maybe her gaze had changed, that she had spoiled something for Carol somehow. And to have no control over it, yet still feel so strongly about her, feelings that wanted to let the butterflies in her belly free so they could fluttery around the room and give her some peace. 

The quiet while she finishing tidying her art is pregnant and deafening. Carol doesn’t move from where she was standing. Perhaps only leaning against the wall, as she waits. 

“I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I?” She says, when Therese closes the little shelf door once her art is neatly tucked away. 

“No… no— I just…” Therese turns around, heart in her throat. 

“You can ask me anything.” Carol says firmly. 

“I can’t help but replay what happened… before Harge left.” She says carefully. 

Carol nods. 

“What he said. About you. Before I… yelled at him.” She takes a few steps closer to Carol.

“What he called me?” Carol asks. “Unfortunate choice of words.” She sighs. 

“I saw a little girl with two moms at the post office yesterday.” Therese explains. “And it made me realize, that if he called you that, that you must… be bisexual… or at least like women in some capacity.” 

Carol has a resigned sort of smile on her face, and nods. 

“I’m not bisexual.” She says, taking a final swig of her coffee. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved a man.” 

“But you have Rindy.” Therese says. 

Carol walks over to the sofa, where the space heater is set up, and takes a seat, looking to Therese, asking her to join her with only her eyes. She does. Therese sits next to her, turning to face her as much as she can.

“I was young when I married Harge— not much older than you I don’t think.” She looks down at her wrist brace, running her finger under the elastic. “He was so busy with work, and I was beginning my own with the label, so…” She shrugs, pressing her lips together pensively. 

“He seemed a lot kinder, more playful but I wasn’t as affectionate as he would have liked. He teased me about it, until it wasn’t teasing anymore.” Carol looks up, gaze distant as she tries to remember. “Rindy’s god mother, Abby and I have known each other since we were little girls, I always knew she was gay— but I never felt things the way she explained them. I had an affair with her, after getting snowed in at her mother’s cottage while driving home from some event… and I was a little rum drunk, and she was so incredibly warm and comforting. It went on for months, until I found out I was pregnant with Rindy.” 

Therese nods, she remembers that name. 

“You called from Abby’s phone when you left yours at the studio.” She says. 

Carol nods. “Yes that’s right, we had dinner with her… I thought a baby might make me feel more connected to Harge, but that wasn’t the case. I love Rindy with every fibre of my being, but after having her, well… I had an excuse as to why I didn’t want to be… intimate.” 

“How did he find out.” Therese asks, almost in a whisper. 

Carol smiles, in that self-deprecating way that makes Therese’s chest ache. “I wanted to give him a reason to leave me.” She says. “If he knew I didn’t love him.” 

Therese nods. 

“That was a mistake. I should have understood that, from the start he didn’t want me to go to work functions, or any events where I might party or drink… he would cart me around like a show horse at his work functions, never let me out of his sight.” She shakes her head. “He hit me one time before I had Rindy, and six times after.” 

“Carol…” Therese says sympathetically. 

“It’s alright.” She reaches out and takes Therese’s right hand with her left. “I hate him more for what he’s done to my wrist than any slap or jab.” Carol mutters cynically. “He cut Abby off from us the moment I told him, despite my insisting that whatever we had ended before Rindy was born. He threatened her, he threatened me. I filed for divorce a few months later.” 

“And now you’re here.” Therese says. 

“And now I’m here.” She agrees. “A lesbian.” 

“A lesbian.” 

Carol looks at her searchingly. “Alright?” 

“Of course.” She gives Carol’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you for sharing that with me.” 

“You want to know me.” Carol reminds softly.

“Yes.” 

 

~**~ 

 

They order dinner at 6:30 PM and it arrives forty minutes later. Carol offers to go downstairs and fetch it while Therese finishes setting her coffee table with cushions on either side and place mats and cutlery and glassware. She puts out a bottle of sparkling grapefruit juice, wanting to feel fancy without the alcohol.

With Carol out of the apartment for a moment, Therese dances over to where she had hidden Carol’s present, carefully taking it out and bringing it to the table, placing it at the edge furthest from the door. When Carol returns, she is carrying their bags of food, and immediately joins Therese at the coffee table. 

“It smells so good.” She says as she sits down, and Therese sits up on her knees to get the bag open. 

“It does.” Therese agrees, taking out plastic tupperwares and handing them to Carol who places them in whatever free space there is on the tabletop. 

“I’ve never done this before.” Carol admits, looking just a little giddy. 

“Ordered takeout on Christmas Eve?” Therese asks, heart wholly in her chest, because Carol hasn’t noticed the box yet. She sets the large bag aside and hands Carol a set of her own reusable chop sticks. 

“No— it was always work functions or family dinners.” She laughs, opening the container of egg rolls and adding one to her plate. Therese takes one as well. 

“It’s almost a tradition.” Therese says, taking an egg roll for herself as well. “With whichever of my friends didn’t have anyone to spend the Holiday with, secularly or otherwise.” She takes the container of noodles and serves herself some with a fork, while Carol spoons some fried rice onto her own plate. 

“It’s fun.” Carol smiles. 

They both reach for the chicken at the same time, fingers brushing. Therese blushes and Carol can’t quite hide her mirth, taking the container and serving herself while Therese pours herself some grapefruit soda. 

“Do you want some?” Therese asks. 

“Please.” Carol replies, placing the chicken container in front of Therese and moving on to the vegetables. 

Once they’re both completely served, they go about starting their meals. Therese peels the lid off of a soup with three fat wontons inside and sips at it lightly. Carol still hasn’t noticed the box, and Therese isn’t sure she wants to interrupt dinner, and yet the anticipation id distracting her. 

“Have you spoken to Rindy?” Therese asks, picking up her wonton with her chop sticks. She takes a bite.

“No. No phone calls from Rindy. But Harge called before I arrived.” She stirs her rice around with her spoon before taking a mouthful. 

“Everything alright with her?” 

“He didn’t pack her elephant.” Carol says, shaking her head. “Whisked her out of the house so fast, and blames me for not making sure she had it.” She scoffs. 

“He’s a real piece of work.” Therese mutters, stabbing a piece of her chicken with her chopstick and eating it skewered. 

“He’s a rotten bastard, is what he is.” Carol offers, nodding. “His mother is almost as vile.” 

“Oh?” 

Carol laughs again. “You’d think she was born with a rod up her ass.”

“That doesn’t sound like someone who would take their grandchild to Disney for Christmas.”

“She supports Hargess in everything, blindly. She was so pleased to have a grandchild, but I think she resents me for not moving to California to make myself and my daughter more available to her.” 

“That sounds… selfish.” 

“Oh yes. She was especially angry when I was working again after 10 weeks, with Rindy in a carrier on my chest.” 

Therese frowns skeptically. “Why was she angry?” 

“Never really explained that part. I certainly wasn’t going to stay at home alone with my child while Harge was working. I got cabin fever very quickly.” 

“He didn’t take time off?” Therese asks, popping another piece of chicken into her mouth. 

“A week.” She replies. “He almost missed the delivery.” 

“Christ.” Therese almost laughs. Carol does.

“Rindy would like this.” Carol says, motioning at their set up. Therese grins. 

“I bet she would. Can she use chop sticks?” 

Carol shakes her head as she finishes her bite of broccoli. “No, not at all. She has a training pair at home.” 

At home. She likes how that sound on Carol’s lips, and in this context Therese can pretend that she means a place for the both of them. For the three of them.

 

~**~ 

 

Carol ducks into Therese’s fridge, putting the leftover takeout inside while Therese scrubs down dishes under a spray of steamy water. It’s quick work, and Carol moves freely through Therese’s space as if it’s second nature. Therese could almost call it force of habit, because Carol had insisted on helping clean up despite being her guest, except somehow Therese associates that turn of phrase with things done on autopilot, something bordering on negative. There is nothing negative in the way that Carol shares this space with Therese. 

Therese looks over her shoulder, watching Carol pick up the half empty bottle of grapefruit soda which had ended up by the dark blue gift box she had put at the end of the table, and that Carol had not noticed. Until now. She reached over and checks the gift tag, and just as Therese puts the last dish in the rack, she watches Carol’s expression change. Wide eyes and lips parted in an O shape. 

“How long has this been here?” Carol asks, as Therese dries her hands and walks back over to her. 

“Since you brought the food in.” Therese says cheekily. Carol laughs and lightly smacks her hand over her forehead. 

“How couldn’t I? This is adorable.” She doesn’t pick it up though, instead she walks over to the island and gets her bag. Therese returns to the couch and Carol joins her, handing her her vaporizer case and a little card. “Merry Christmas.” She says sweetly.

“You didn’t have to…” she says, setting the case down next to her, and opening the card inside are two cards. 

“The first is a two year museum goers membership card.” Carol explains as Therese withdraws it and takes a closer look. She can see her name printed on it and an ID number. “I got the newsletter for the exhibits and thought you’d like them.”

“This is really wonderful, thank you— we should take Rindy. You said she loves museums.” 

Carol nods and motions at the second card. “The second is a little different.”

“Okay?” Therese takes the second card out, raising a brow when she realizes that it’s a VISA Gift Card. “You didn’t put a—”

“It’s empty, it was more of a stand-in.” She reaches out and clasps Therese’s hand. “I want to treat you to a shopping free, for whatever supplies would benefit your work.” 

Therese looks at her with an expression that is almost gaping. “Really?” She squeaks.

“Yeah.” Carol nods. 

Therese looks down at the card again. “Thank you.” She says, with such sincerity that her voice breaks. She looks back up at Carol. “Thank you.” 

Carol simply smiles at her with that deep affection that makes those butterflies in her belly dance and dance. 

“Shall I open mine?” Carol asks, letting go of Therese’s hand to reach over and take the box off the table, cradling it in her lap. 

Therese worries suddenly that her gift is painfully inadequate. What could she offer that wasn’t superficial? That wasn’t somehow about her own feelings for Carol? She watches Carol open the box with her heart in her throat. 

“Oh it’s a multi-part present.” Carol laughs lightly, taking the wrapped vaporizer box out and carefully removing the wrapping paper without ripping it. “Oh…” She breathes, a smile playing at her lips. “You’re so sweet.” 

She takes the lid off the vaporizer’s box and peers in. “This is lovely.” Carol takes out the pen, the same model as Therese’s but a charcoal grey instead, with silver parts instead of gold. 

“I figured it could help with your pain.” Therese says, and Carol nods. “There are a few cartridges in there and a pamphlet if any other of their liquids appeal to you.”

“That’s very considerate of you.” She closes the box and sets it aside, reaching into the box and removing a wrapped picture frame. 

The first one she unwraps is the one of Rindy asleep on the couch.

“My sweet girl.” She touches the photo and grins. “This is so cute, you have such an eye.” Carol places the frame on the clean coffee table, and takes out the next frame. It’s the one of her posing with the tree at the lot. She looks it over in silence, and Therese watches her face the whole time. “A talented artist and a talented photographer.” She says thoughtfully. “I didn’t even notice you take the second one.” 

“That’s the idea.” Therese says. “Learning how to capture someone at their most natural.”

The next one she opens is the one of she and Rindy. “I might give this one to Rindy.” Carol says. “Put it in her room.” She sets it on the table as well and takes out the last one, which really has Therese nervous, almost feeling like she would like flee and hide. 

“Oh…” Carol breathes. She looks at the photographs, the ones with the three of them, and takes a slow deep breath. “This is…” Carol presses her fingers against her lips, and then presses her fingers against photo. “This is beautiful.” Her voice breaks, and Therese’s heart kicks in her chest. 

Carol puts the photograph down and turns to Therese, eyes wet with tears, moves closer and leans in, reaching for her. She is surely about to hug her, tell her something about preserving precious moments, that these photographs were sentimental.

But she doesn’t hug her.

She kisses her. 

Therese feels the fabric of Carol’s brace against her neck as her hand finds the back of her neck, feels the warmth of Carol’s lips on her own, tastes a hint of salt and knows Carol’s ocean eyes had welled over. Therese feels all of this as if the seconds are drawn out, and then all at once she feels like the seconds are getting away from her. 

Therese clutches at Carol’s sweater, parting her lips so easily at Carol’s cue. She finds herself leaning into Carol, wanting this touch, wanting to kiss her, wanting her so much closer. She had never liked kissing, until she had been kissed by someone as delightfully good at it as Carol. Therese had tolerated it and never sought it out, practically avoided it, and borderline feared it. 

And now she fears losing it. 

Carol tightens her grip on Therese’s hair desperate little whimper leaves her throat. 

And then there is a ghost on her lips and a shiver runs up her spine and Carol isn’t touching her anymore. She feels like she could cry. 

“I’m sorry.” Carol whispers. “You only just bro—” _broke up with Rick_. How could she be so _painfully_ considerate, how couldn’t she see that her feelings for Rick were houseflies compared to the colony of butterflies she feels for her.

“No.” Therese interrupts breathlessly. Scooting forward until their legs touch. She cradles Carol’s face between her hands and leans her forehead against hers. “I _want_ to kiss you.” She says. “I want to…” 

Carol leans in just enough to ghost her lips over Therese’s again, and Therese closes her eyes. 

“I want to kiss _you_.” She says again, and feels Carol’s hands on her thighs. 

“So kiss me.” Carol whispers.

So she does.

She wonders how something that had felt so unnatural and foreign to her for so long could feel as right as this. 

But she also knows this couldn’t feel anything but exciting, warm, inviting and safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't overly fond of how scene 2 went, but if you enjoyed it I will put it out of my mind.  
> Thank you so much for your comments and support!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by far the longest chapter, I will be revisiting this later to possibly shuffle some scenes into previous or following chapters.   
> Content Warnings: homophobic language.

Therese stays awake much the same way she had the last time Rick had slept over. But there is no one in her bed this night, there is someone breathing deeply and slowly across the room on the twin pull-out couch. To wait twenty sure minutes, until someone fell asleep to be truly sure they had slipped into dreamland extends to her time in the boarding school. Therese had always waited for the other girls to fall asleep before she had been able to sleep herself. 

But unlike when Rick had slept over, Therese does not feel a weight on her, she feels so so light to the point of dizziness. She falls asleep to the sound of Carol’s breathing, and dreams of counting her freckles, and of touching her skin and her hair. She dreams also of Carol’s fingers stroking over her cheek, and brushing hair out of her face, and murmuring sweet nothings to her. 

“Therese?” 

She opens her eyes, and realizes she wasn’t dreaming. Therese meets Carol’s gaze with a sleepy smile. 

“Is something wrong?” She whispers, and feels Carol’s thumb stroke over her cheek. 

“I’m cold.” Carol whispers. 

Therese gives a weary hum. “I can turn the space heater on higher.” 

“No, stay. Can I join you?” Carol asks, running her hand over Therese’s side on top of the duvet.

“You want to share?” Therese murmurs a sleepy smile on her face. 

“Don’t get any ideas— I’m just cold.” She teases and Therese scoots aside, picking up the blankets and duvet and letting Carol slide in beside her. 

Carol hums softly when she settles, and Therese drapes the blankets over her. She reaches an arm around Therese’s waist, making Therese squeak when her hand meets the skin of her back where her shirt had ridden up. 

“Your hands are cold!” Therese complains, but feels her cheeks burn when Carol guides her hand over Therese’s back. 

“And you’re so warm.” She practically moans, shifting nearer until they’re touching. 

Therese wraps an arm around Carol’s waist as well, giving a slight shudder. 

“Is this alright?” Carol murmurs.

“Yes.” Therese breathes.

Again she is one to wait, to feel Carol’s breathing slow and even out, but she falls asleep with the sound and feeling of it so close to her, lulling her into a sense of calm security. 

Carol sleeping over had not been planned. But if Therese was already going to her house the next day, why wouldn’t she stay the night? Therese had been pick-cheeks for an hour after the last peck Carol had landed on her lips, head swimming and as Carol had put it, “love drunk”. 

Therese had lent her some sweat pants and a clean shirt, but Carol had put the pink wool sweater on again once she’d changed because the apartment was cold enough to warrant it. Therese had surprised her with the hide-a-bed, priding herself on her ability to accommodate guests even in a small space. 

Her own bed was big enough to share, but Carol had insisted on the hide-a-bed, until the cold had gotten to her of course, and gotten into bed with Therese anyway. It was better that way. In the end. 

The morning brings the hum of traffic and the December light streaming in past the gaps of the curtains. And with them Therese’s wakefulness. The bed is warm, and the air is not, and Therese presses her face into her pillow. She is met with curly blonde tresses, and the top of Carol’s head, which she sleepily nuzzles before turning her face away so her hair wouldn’t tickle her nose. 

It strikes her that Carol is touching her in very real ways. A hand still lingers on her back, her arm a weight over her side, one leg staggered with Therese’s. Therese’s own arms rests over Carol’s middle, a casual embrace but remarkable in its own way. 

Never had she shared her bed and not felt hot and claustrophobic. Never had she fallen asleep with someone so close to her, unless she knew they were well and truly asleep. Never had she let someone hold her or touch her like this, and not immediately want to flee the bed. 

Therese gives a slight stretch, immediately shivering. Beyond the space they had inhabited during the night, even the bed is colder than she’d like. She should have brought the space heater closer when Carol had joined her. 

“Why is your apartment so cold?” Carol mutters, nuzzling the bridge of her nose against Therese’s chin. 

“I get a discount on rent and let the broken heating slide.” She replies, and Carol groans. 

“I really don’t want to leave the bed.” She says, burying her head under the blankets and hugging Therese tighter. 

Therese laughs and brings her hand up to comb through Carol’s hair, she hums lightly. 

“I can bring the space heater over.” Therese offers. “And I can offer you a hot shower.”

“That sounds nice.” Carol replies. 

“It means I have to get out of bed.” Therese says, and Carol sighs heavily. 

“How unfortunate.” 

They don’t move for a few more minutes, just lying together, half-dozing. Until Therese sighs and turns her head to press a kiss to Carol’s cheek, just under her eye. 

“Merry Christmas.” She murmurs, and feels Carol smile under her lips. 

Carol lifts her head and leans in, kissing Therese sweetly. “Merry Christmas.” 

 

~**~ 

 

The steaming water of her shower is a welcome embrace after leaving the warmth of her bed and venturing into the cold air. Therese had quickly fetched the space heater and placed it next to Carol’s side of the bed, before rushing away into the washroom to start a warm shower and take care of nature’s call. She had shivered until she stepped under the almost too-hot spray, sighing in relief as she hugged herself and was quickly covered. 

While she suds up her bodywash, she suddenly thinks of Carol doing it for her, and feels as though the thought makes her whole body blush. Therese is overcome with a simultaneous want and anxiety that Carol might join her. She has to go about her shower on autopilot, washing herself, and then her hair, and getting out and leaving the shower on so Carol could just get right in. 

Therese wraps herself in a large towel and carries her clothes with her into the main living space. Steam spills from the bathroom when she opens the door. Her gaze goes immediately to Carol, who has wrapped a blanket around herself like a cape, while the duvet is still pooled around her waist and covering her legs. 

“The water is still running hot. Go ahead. There’s a towel for you.” 

Carol throws the blankets aside and darts across the room, sighing when she walks into the wall of steam. She pauses before closing the door, watching Therese head to her armoire and drop her sleep clothes in the hamper. She shuts the door. 

Therese dresses in a hurry, wanting to be covered and comfortable again. Fleece lined pants, a long sleeve black shirt, and a new wool sweater and pair of wool socks do the trick. 

While Carol is showering, Therese tidies the bed, and remakes it, tucking the murphy bed away and moving the space heater over to the couch, where she puts away the hide-a-bed as well. With a blanket as a cape, Therese sets the kettle to boil and prepares them both some tea. She does a few superficial squats in front of the counter to warm herself up better. 

Soon Therese hears the shower turn off and Carol steps out, creating a new cloud of steam from the bathroom herself. She tiptoes across the cold floor and picks up her clothes from the chair they had been left on and returns to the washroom. Just as soon she is back out again, dressed, and finds the pink wool sweater and dons it for a third time. 

“Is that tea?” She asks, coming over to Therese and smiling lightly at the sight of the blanket she’s wearing. 

“Yes. Is there anything you’d like to eat?” Therese asks, as she pours the boiling water over the waiting tea bags. 

“Is that a trick question?” Carol asks, nudging Therese’s hand and stroking her thumb over her knuckles. 

“No?” Therese raises a brow. “I have eggs, and sausage and bread, and fruit and oatmeal…” 

“Oatmeal sounds good.” Carol agrees. “Do you have peanut butter or hazelnut spread?” 

“I have both.” 

“Perfect.” Carol smiles, and takes her mug of tea off the counter, bringing it over to the island. 

“You like making your oatmeal taste like Reece's Pieces?” Therese asks, getting the oats and a small pot out and ready. 

“Who wouldn’t? Besides if it adds a little protein to your breakfast— why not?” 

“True.” Therese agrees.

Carol slips away while Therese prepares breakfast, idly tidying what she can while she can, and picking up her things to put them in her bag. It takes her a few minutes to find her phone again, sitting on one of the side tables next to the couch. 

“Do you have a charger?” Carol asks.

“Yes. It’s plugged into the power bar there.” She points, and Carol goes over to it, plugging her phone in and letting it come back to life. She returns to her tea, which is now a tolerable temperature, and sips at it softly while Therese stirs the oatmeal in the pot with a spoon. 

Therese can feel her watching, and feels oddly reassured, and invigorated. She looks back over her shoulder to catch Carol looking at her, and is greeted with a warm smile that makes her blush. 

“What are you thinking about?” Carol asks.

“Getting to eat breakfast.” Therese replies. 

“Anything else?” 

“You.” That would always be the case. Colours, and shapes, and toys and clothing items… everything would remind her of Carol now, and she’s absolutely sure about that. She stands aside and motions for Carol to take over stirring. “Let me get the peanut butter and hazelnut spread down for you.” 

Carol pour a little more water into the pot and stirs, making sure none of the oats are sticking, and watches Therese open a cupboard and withdraw both containers and place them next on the counter next to her. For good measure, Therese also pulls two spoons out of her cutlery drawer and sets them down as well. 

“Thanks.” Carol says, and turns the heat down to low under the oats, opening the spreads and getting a spoonful of each into the pot. She stirs that around as Therese takes the Chinese leftovers out and sticking a couple containers in the microwave. 

“Don’t want them lingering in my fridge.” She says casually, picking up her mug and taking a sip of her tea.

Carol’s phone chirps and buzzes frantically then, having charged enough to come back to life. 

“Christ.” Carol curses, taking the pot off the burner and rushing over to it. 

Therese turns the heat off for her. 

“Would you like some milk in this? A bowl?” She asks. 

“Yes— just a bit, please.” Carol perches on the chair next to power bar, tugging at her brace and thumbing at her screen. 

Therese gets out her milk, eyeballing an amount between an eight and quarter cup, before spooning the oatmeal into a bowl and sticking a spoon in it. She places it where Carol had been sitting at the island with her tea. And turns to her microwave when it finishes heating her leftovers. 

“Nineteen texts, and seven voicemails.” Carol says with a sigh, and Therese looks at her. 

“Harge?” 

“Yeah.” 

She puts the phone on speaker. Therese puts her food on the counter and walks over to her, sitting on the sofa to listen. 

The first voicemail is arguably the tamest. 

“Rindy’s elephant was delivered safely, no thanks to you— but Rindy has been throwing tantrums with my mother and I since day one. I want you to come and join us for the rest of the trip, Rindy has always been more agreeable with you around. Call me back. I’ll send you the flight information.” 

“He just expects you to drop everything and go?” 

“When it comes to his needs as a father, he expects a lot of things.” Carol says, playing the next voicemail. 

“I sent you the flight information an hour and a half ago. I never thought you were petty Carol, but ignoring me? That’s low. Quit making a fool of yourself with that artist and get back to your responsibilities.” 

And the next. 

“What if this were an emergency, Carol? What if Rindy were hospitalized and you were fucking answering your phone? Do you know how that looks? It looks like goddamn neglect that’s what. Call me when you get this.”

They listen to them all, and each is more hostile and threatening than the last. It’s hard to tell where he is when he sent them, but Therese guesses a hotel because he doesn’t raise his voice despite it becoming quite menacing. He goes on to say that if she doesn’t call him back he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep Rindy from her. He goes on to say that she is purposefully choosing to ignore him, that she wants to sabotage his time with his daughter. He goes on to say that he thinks she’s poisoned Rindy against him and he’d be getting in contact with his lawyers. 

Carol plays the next voicemail.

“Hi sweetie…” it’s Abby’s voice and both Therese and Carol sit a little straighter. “Harge called me last night wondering if I was with you. He sounded drunk and told me he’d been trying to reach you all night. I told him I couldn’t help him, but I’m calling you anyway. Call me when you get this? Merry Christmas.” 

Carol sighs, and thumbs her screen, the automated voice tells her they’re all from Harge. 

“I need to send these to my lawyer.” She says, and starts thumbing the touchscreen again. “And screenshot the texts…”

“Come eat.” Therese says, reaching out and touching her knee. Carol looks at her with a tender smile. 

“Give me a couple minutes, I’ll be right there.”

Therese gives her the time to do what she needs to about the voicemails and texts. Therese sits and digs into her amalgam of Chinese leftovers, eating them thoughtfully. 

“I’m gonna give Abby a quick call back.” Carol says, and brings the phone to her ear. 

“Hey hon. I just got your message.” She says, and pauses to hear the reply.   
“I haven’t called him back, no. But I sent his voicemails to the lawyer.”  
“I’m alright— my phone died.”   
“Yes that’s right.” She smiles over at Therese tenderly.   
“Thanks for calling, sorry he bothered you.”   
“That’s a great idea.”  
“Merry Christmas.” 

Carol leaves her phone plugged in and joins Therese at the island. She gives her oatmeal a stir, glad to find that it’s still warm, and digs in, giving a satisfactory hum. They eat in silence for a few minutes. 

“I’m a little surprised he called her.” Therese says after finishing a bite of chicken. “Since he cut her off from you and Rindy.”

“He _tried_ , the lawyers never bought anything he said to convince them to legally keep her away… But it wasn’t much of a reach. I’m usually with her.” She shakes her head. 

“How’s the oatmeal?” Therese asks, taking a bite of rice. 

“Just right, thank you.” She takes a sip of her tea. “You should pack an overnight bag.”

“You want me to stay over?” Therese asks, and her cheeks redden. 

“You let me stay over, besides, I wouldn’t want you to have to go home alone at night on Christmas.” 

“Okay.” She smiles, almost giddily. 

They finish their breakfast and Carol washes her own bowl, placing it in the rack where she’d seen Therese put the dishes the day before. Therese starts packing a bag. Carol looks at the time and glances at her phone, plugged in and 

“I’m going to buy a turkey.” She says resolutely. “And all the fixings.” 

“There’s a grocery store ten minutes from here.” Therese replies, stuffing a shirt into her small leather weekender bag.

“Do you have some reusable bags— and a freezer bag?” Carol asks. 

“Yeah, in the utility closet.” She points. 

Carol finds them, and walks over to Therese, pausing next to her. 

“Think you’ll be ready by the time I get back?” She asks, looking at her tenderly. 

Therese meets her gaze with a smile. “Yes.” 

Carol leans in, slipping her two first fingers under Therese’s chin, and kisses her slowly. Therese feels her heart flutter. She parts her lips and immediately feels Carol deepen it, holding her jaw a little more tightly. Therese gives a little hum. 

“You are so fun to kiss.” Carol murmurs amusedly, and Therese grins. 

“So are you.” 

 

~**~

 

The entire drive to Carol’s house, Therese can think of little else than of the ghost of Carol’s kisses on her lips. Every other kiss— every other man who had kissed her— had felt like phantoms on her skin that she felt she needed to be cleansed of. But Carol, Carol she wants to be _bathed_ in Carol. 

“What are you thinking about?” Carol asks when they reach a stop light, her braced hand reaching out to caress Therese’s leg. 

“You.” Therese says softly, turning to look at her. 

“What about?” Carol probes, and Therese smiles softly. 

“It’s embarrassing.” She admits, scrunching up her nose. 

“Tell me anyway.” Carol takes her hand away, returning it to the wheel when the light changes to green. 

“What you think about being someone’s _lesbian revelation_.” 

Carol laughs softly. “Abby was mine.” She shrugs.

“But do you like it?” 

She watches Carol as she drives, watches her consider the question. 

“It feels a bit like a gift, I think.” She says finally. “To be able to help someone realize something like that.” 

“You feel like a gift.” Therese says. “I’ve never felt _so much_ — so _happy_ before.” 

To see the look of emotion on Carol’s face is another gift as well. To be able to see how her earnest admission affects her. It’s everything.

“You say that even with Harge’s shadow looming over us?” 

Us. 

Therese breathes in a deeply. 

“Your light is far, far stronger.” She replies with adamance, keeping up with the metaphor.

Therese couldn’t begin to explain it all. The feelings. Like being trapped in a tunnel collapse. But the debris wasn’t a burden, it was a discovery, a freedom. And despite filling her with overwhelm at the oddest of moments, Therese has truly cherished every single emotion she has felt since meeting Carol. They are a salve to the mundanity, to the lingering dread, to the panic and nausea and guilt. Because now she is feeling excitement and curiosity, lustful and passionate, and protective. 

The car ride is peaceful and comfortable, and they arrive at the house, much like they had on Sunday. But this time there is no tree to unload, and no little girl to greet them excitedly. Therese makes her way soberly to the front door with the heavier of the grocery bags in her arms, with Carol a few steps behind her. The house is warmer than outside, but once Carol removes her boots, she turns the thermostat up a few degrees. 

“I should start on the turkey if we want to eat it tonight.” Carol says, as she hangs their coats up. 

Therese leaves her bag on the bench in the front hall and brings the grocery bags to the kitchen. 

“Do you have a recipe?” 

“You bet I do.” 

Carol gives Therese the task of chopping and preparing, letting Carol give her wrist a break. She wears a dish glove so she can keep the brace on, and frees the giblets from the bird. She sets them aside to make gravy with, and prepares the rest of the small bird; seasons it, slides some butter under its skin, starts a stuffing with the vegetables Therese chops, and so on. 

They work well and diligently and have the turkey in the oven in good time. They’d be able to eat before seven. 

Therese gives the gravy a stir, and sets the burner on low to keep it warm. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Carol asks, taking the glove off, as well as her brace. She washes her hands under warm water and towel dries them. 

“What do you have?” Therese asks, putting the lid on the pot and coming over to join her. 

“Cider, bailey’s, tea, coffee, hot chocolate, wine.” She lists off slowly. 

Therese takes Carol’s right hand and holds it gently, stroking over her skin with her thumb. 

“Bailey’s… in hot chocolate… sounds nice.” She replies, bringing Carol’s wrist to her lips and kissing it gently. 

“I can do that.” She says, and slips away, getting the ingredients out and setting another pot onto the stove. She measures everything out while Therese watches with rapt attention, as she mixes the milk with some water, whipped cream, vanilla, cocoa, and adds a cinnamon stick in for good measure, and sets the heat to medium to bring it to a slow boil.

“It already smells amazing.” Therese says, taking a deep breath. 

Carol gives a breath of a laugh, dipping a finger into the bowl of whipped cream and licking it off, and then again. In a moment of bold impulsivity, Therese takes her wrist, the left, and guides Carol over to her. Without looking away Therese licks the whipped cream off of Carol’s fingertip, heart kicking in her chest as she does it. 

“Fuck.” Carol breathes, and cordons Therese against the counter, kissing her hard. 

Carol earns herself a heady moan that Therese could never have expected to leave her lips, getting immediately lost in Carol’s touch and letting her hands find Carol’s waist and holding her surely. Carol’s left hand slips into Therese’s hair and finds a comfortable grip in her dark brown tresses, a pressure Therese finds absolutely delightful. 

“You tell me if this is too much.” Carol says, breaking the kiss and looking her dead in the eyes. 

“It isn’t.” Therese breathes. 

“You’ll tell me?” 

“Yes.” 

And Carol kisses her again, searching and insistent, and Therese is like putty under her touch. A minor presence of teeth against Therese’s bottom lip has another sound leaving her throat and she feels her cheeks burn, but more importantly, she feels Carol smiling against her lips. Therese shifts, feeling the counter at her backside, and finds a position that fits Carol all the more close to her, and— she hums in surprise— their hips aligning in such a way that has her feeling that whole body blush again. 

Carol’s right hand finds the small of Therese’s back, pressing her fingers into her skin. Therese can do little but grip at Carol’s waist, feeling oddly clumsy, eager and determined. Her hand slips to the waistband of Carol’s trousers finding purchase there, fingers both tugging and sneaking caresses of the warm skin of her hip.

The scent of the warming hot chocolate begins to fill Therese’s nose, and she gives a smile, tilting her head as Carol flexes her fingers in her hair again. It is time for Therese to suck at Carol’s bottom lip, and feels her laugh. She takes Therese’s hand, still tentative at her hip, and guides it under her shirt as an encouragement.

“Touch me.” Carol says, leaning the bridge of her nose against Therese’s. She is quick to return to kissing Therese, earning herself a contented hum. Therese smooths her palm over Carol’s tummy, and then traveling upward until the pressing of her fingers leads her to counting Carol’s ribs, and finding the band of her bra. It isn’t lingerie by any means, but Therese can feel detailing as she brings her hand higher, cupping Carol’s breast experimentally. 

She feels more than hears Carol sigh, and Carol turns her head, dragging her teeth and lips along Therese’s jaw. Carol smiles again, dipping her lips lower to Therese’s neck, and brings her hand to caress the other side and presses her fingers against Therese’s pulse as she begins a slow and agonizingly pleasant action, sucking at her skin with teeth and tongue. 

“Your heart is racing.” Carol murmurs.

“How could it not?” Therese replies breathlessly, and Carol laughs again, low and satisfied, and dips lower leaving only the tiniest indication of a love bite on Therese’s throat. She shifts the collar of her shirt, and settles there near her shoulder, working a blotch of red into her skin with her lips and tongue and teeth. 

Therese’s free hand finds its way to Carol’s hair, pulling her closer, and giving a little gasp when Carol bites down a little harder. The hand at Carol’s breast gives a light squeeze, and for the first time, she gets to hear Carol moan, low in her chest, while she marks Therese’s neck with dark love bites. 

“I want to try.” Therese says, turning them around to cordon Carol against the counter, a hand still on her breast. They make eye contact briefly, and Therese sees her moist lips and flushed cheeks and a proud little smile on her face. So Therese’s kisses her again and feels her melt, grinning as she ducks her head to do much the same to Carol’s neck as she had to Therese’s. 

If she weren’t already reeling, the way Carol leans her head into Therese’s hand, and the way her every heavy breath reminds her where her hand is would surely have her dizzy. 

“Touch me.” Therese says, drawing her teeth against Carol’s neck. She more than obliges, slipping her hands down to Therese’s ass and pulling her ever nearer. The action pulls giggles from Therese’s throat, contagious enough to leave Carol laughing as well, broken only by soft hums when Therese sucks at her neck again. 

Four things happen at once;   
Therese lifts her head capturing Carol’s lips in a rough kiss.  
She tugs at the cup of Carol’s bra slipping her hand against her skin.   
Carol rolls her hips against Therese’s drawing a wanton sound from her tongue. 

And the doorbell rings. 

Therese steps back, lowering her hands, just far enough to get a little air between them. She feels suddenly cold, but much more capable of thought. Only the sound of their lingering breathing reaches her ears for the next few seconds. 

“The hot chocolate is ready.” Therese manages, glancing at the bubbling pot. “I’ll get the door, your…” Her cheeks redden further, and she almost laughs. “… Your shirt.”

Carol gives her a peck on the lips. “Go, go.” 

Therese smooths her hand over her shirt and glances back in time to see Carol adjust her bra. The doorbell sounds again, just as Therese is getting into the front hall. She opens the front door. 

The woman behind it is slim, and a little shorter than Carol, her hair is dyed bright blonde and done in a long pixie cut that suits her face tremendously. She is wearing a wool lined denim jacket that comes down past her waist. The jacket is open and Therese can see that she has on a button-up shirt done up to the collar, a rich red with some floral pattern than reminds her of a tropical Christmas theme, her grey high waisted trousers cut an incredible figure. She is carrying bags of presents.

For a few seconds Therese has to wonder if she hadn’t experienced some sudden flood of ability to be attracted to women, but she manages to find her brain and not gape. 

“Hi.” Therese manages, and watches a slow smile creep onto the woman’s face. 

“Hi.” She replies. “You must be—”

“Abby.” Therese says. “You’re Abby.” 

“And you’re Therese.” 

“Come inside.” Therese moves out of the way and lets Abby slip past, closing and locking the door behind them. 

“I smell hot chocolate.” Abby says conspiratorially, putting the presents on the bench and taking off her jacket, She hangs it on the rack. 

“Yes, Carol just finished making some.” 

As if on cue, Carol appears in the doorway. 

“Hi dear.” She greets and they kiss cheeks and hug. 

“I’m early, I know.” Abby says, holding Carol at arm’s length, gaze flickering to the not so subtle and clearly fresh marks on Carol’s neck.

“Don’t you worry about it.” Carol laughs, and beckons Therese over. “You two have met then?” 

Therese steps over and Carol puts a hand on her shoulder. 

“Yes— we guessed.” Therese breathes a laugh. 

“I brought presents.” Abby says, going over to the bags again. “Something for Rindy.” 

“You should put it under the tree.” As if reminded of something, Carol turns and walks into the living room over to the tree and steps on the pedal that turns on the lights. 

It’s lit up in white, and Therese sees that Carol had put a few presents under the tree. The wrapping paper is shiny and reflects the lights onto the floor. 

“It’s beautiful.” Abby says, setting down the presents among the ones already there. 

“Therese helped Rindy and I with it.” Carol says affectionately.

“Did she?” Abby looks over at Therese. 

“Yes.” Therese beams. “We went to the tree lot— and I made sure to help Rindy realize her vision for the decorations.” She laughs. 

“Shall we have some hot chocolate?” Carol says. 

“Definitely.” Therese agrees. 

They file into the kitchen, and Carol pours them all mugs of hot chocolate, leaving enough room for her to pour in some Bailey’s. 

“Cheers!” Says Abby, and they all clink their mugs and drink. 

“That’s _good_.” Therese says, taking big swig. 

Abby puts a hand on Carol’s arm. “Did you call Harge back?” She asks gently. 

Carol puts her mug now. “Shit. I didn’t.” 

“You don’t have to.” Therese offers, but Carol shakes her head. 

“I should. He’ll just get more angry if I don’t— I’ll be right back.” She steps out of the room leaving Therese and Abby to exchange looks. 

When Carol returns she has her phone in hand. “Can you record this?” She asks, of either of them.

“My phone is in my jacket.” Therese says. 

“I have mine.” Abby says, pulling hers from her back pocket. She places it on the table and opens up the recording app. “Go ahead.”

Carol rubs her neck as she thumbs the screen, getting to the call app. She hesitates before pressing Harge’s number. 

“I’m going to put it on speaker, so try not to make any sound.” 

Abby and Therese nod, and Carol makes the call. 

It rings four times before the line picks up. 

“You have some explaining to do Carol. Twenty-four hours! It takes you _twenty-four hours_ to call me back!?”

“Do you have something to talk to me about Rindy?” Carol asks. 

“How do you deal with Rindy’s tantrums? Nothing I have tried works.” 

“She doesn’t… she rarely…” Carol sighs. “I bring her somewhere quiet, hold her tightly but not forcefully, talk to her and try figure out what the meltdown is about, and let her figure out a solution.” 

“I’ve taken her to a time out and had to restrain her. She kicked my mother in the ribs and even broken her glasses! If you were here she wouldn’t be acting this way, she never acts this way when you’re around!” 

Carol clenches her left hand into a fist. 

“It is not my job to mediate your interactions with your daughter.” Carol says sharply. “You want to spend time with her, you sprung this trip on us! You chose this, it’s on you!” 

“Don’t you fucking dare, Carol! You were unreachable for twenty-four hours!”

Carol slams her hand against the counter, both Therese and Abby reach out for her, placing a hand over her clenched fist and on her shoulder, they exchange glances again. 

“I have a life too Harge! I cannot be at your beck and call about our daughter. Learn how to be her fucking father or bring her home! You choose! I will not clean up your mess. I am going to enjoy my Christmas, try to enjoy yours.”

“Carol—”

“I am hanging up now Harge.” And she does, pushing the phone away. Abby turns off the recording and saves it. 

Therese rubs her thumb over Carol’s knuckles, and she turns her hand over to hold Therese’s. Abby rubs Carol’s back. 

“What that too much?” She asks, looking suddenly exhausted. 

“No hon.” Abby insists. “Not at all.”

Carol looks down at her and Therese’s hands. 

“What do you think he’ll do?” Therese asks. 

“He’s unpredictable, but I think he’s too proud to end the trip.” 

“Let’s drink these hot chocolates, put on a crap Christmas movie and wait for that bird to cook.” Abby says, and Carol smiles. 

“I have a couple shrimp platters in the fridge. Should I take them out?” She asks. 

“Absolutely.” Therese and Abby say it in unison. They look at each other and burst into laughter. 

“Okay okay, I’ll get the shrimp.” Abby says, waving them toward the living room.

Therese stands and waits for Carol to circle the island. She wraps an arm around Therese's shoulder, and when they are out of sight, leans in and kisses Therese sweetly.

“She’s beautiful.” Therese whispers, and Carol gives a light laugh. 

“Yeah, in more than one way.” Carol agrees. “I wouldn’t be here without her.”

“I’m glad I’m here.” Therese says as they find a seat on the sofa.

“I’m glad you’re here too.” 

 

~**~ 

 

By the time the turkey is done, all three women are warmed with alcohol and helping prepare the final touches on dinner. They do it naturally, seeking to plate dishes and set the dining room table, light a few candles and— on a whim— put a string of battery powered fairy lights up along the buffet for a bit of holiday spirit. 

Therese learns that Abby works for the AIRD label’s furniture design department, and they talk about colour coordination, mixing styles, storage concepts. Carol mentions the furniture in Therese’s small apartment as well. “You’d never guess her little couch was a hide-a-bed.” She’d say, and comment that the murphy bed really complemented the space, and how the murphy bed was a clever way to create space for her art. 

They’ve barely sat down to eat when the unmistakable sound of a car outside has them all exchanging looks. 

“Could that be Harge?” Abby asks, putting her fork down. 

“I don’t know…” Carol replies, pushing her chair back and preparing to stand. 

Abby holds up a hand of pause. “Carol, sweetie— you have _very_ fresh hickeys on your neck and as sure as I am that he will not be happy to see me, I think it’s a safer bet if I get the door.” 

Therese’s cheeks burn, and has to fight to keep Abby’s gaze, but it’s actually rather disarming. 

“Nice work.” She teases, winking at Therese, making her smile. “She never let me mark her up like that.”

“Abby—” Carol complains but its in good spirits. 

“Go put a turtleneck on or something.” Abby insists, and gives her a reassuring smile to the both of them. 

They all stand though, Carol making her way upstairs to find a different shirt, and Therese redoing her bun, as if that would somehow improve upon an already innocuous appearance.

“Should I…” she almost says ‘hide’ but that would be taking the man outside the door and make him a monster. 

“I think the living room is a safe bet.” Abby says earnestly. “Put on some music or something. You’ve seen the sound system.” 

“Yes.” Therese fishes her phone out of her coat on the hook, and glances at her bag on the bench. “What about my bag?” 

“You’re not hiding Therese. He’ll see what he wants to see.” 

She steps into the living room as Carol descends the stairs in a soft looking figure-fitting navy turtleneck and loose olive coloured cardigan, she’d combed out her hair too, and runs a nervous hand through it. 

“I’m going to put some music on.” Therese says softly, and Carol nods. 

“I have something I’d like to play.” Carol says, and goes to the kitchen for her phone. Therese goes ahead and turns the sound system and Carol joins her, they can see Harge’s car from the window, but the tree obscures them. Suddenly they hear an excited squealing and Abby laughs and opens the door. 

“It’s snowing!” Rindy screams. “Aunt Abby? Aunt Abby!— It’s snowing!” 

Therese takes a closer look, and sure enough, it is snowing, thick heavy flakes, that have already begun to stick to the ground and create a carpet of white. Carol puts the music she wants on, something instrumental, pleasant and festive, but calm. A melody that, in any other circumstance, Therese might sway to. 

They stand together, and hear more than see Rindy bound into the house and tackle Abby in a hug. 

“Are you having Christmas with Mumma!?” Rindy exclaims. 

“Yes the food is on the table, we were just about to eat.” Abby says, brushing snowflakes from Abby’s hair. 

The door creaks, and two bootfalls indicate that Harge has stepped inside. 

“Hargess. Merry Christmas.” Abby greets, helping Rindy with her coat and boots. 

“Abigail.” He replies, unenthused. 

Carol walks out into the hall, just as Abby has gotten Rindy’s boot off.

“Mumma!” Rindy cries and Carol scoops her up. 

“Hi baby!” She beams, and kisses her rosy cheeks. “How was your trip.” She looks over at Harge as she says it. 

“I met Moana, and saw Princess Leia. And we went on a tramp ride—”

“A _tram_ ride, Rindy.” Harge corrects gently. 

“A tu-ram ride.” She says almost irritably. “It was loud too.”

“I bet it was.” Carol says, patting her back. 

“I’m hungry.” Rindy announces, but doesn’t move from her mother’s arms. 

“Okay, we’ll get you a plate. You wanna say bye to Daddy?” Carol encourages. 

Rindy leans back, but doesn’t indicate that she wants to leave Carol’s arms. Carol carries her closer to Harge and he gives her a one-handed hug as she gives him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Bye Daddy.” She says. “Disney World was fun.” 

“Bye honey.” 

Carol turns away and starts toward the kitchen. 

“There are more bags to bring in.” Harge says expectantly, Carol pauses. “Presents from my parents.” 

Abby gives him her best ‘eat shit’ smile, shooing Carol away. “Go ahead and bring them in, Harge. We’ll leave the door open.” 

He looks like he wants to argue with her, but turns and heads back outside into the snow. 

When Carol passes the living room, Rindy almost misses Therese still standing by the tree. 

“Hey Rindy.” Abby coaxes. “I’m not the only guest tonight!” 

She points to Therese and Rindy’s face lights up. 

“Terry!” She exclaims and Therese walks over to her and gives her a big hug, surprised that the little girl immediately clings to her. Therese takes over walking her to the kitchen, where she shifts her onto her hip and grabs a plate for her and some cutlery. 

“It must be Christmas if I’m getting such a nice hug.” Therese says to Rindy. 

“I’m excited to see you.” Rindy says matter-of-factly.

Therese finds a chair at the dining room table that has a big cushion on it and puts Rindy down. 

“We have turkey, and potatoes, and vegetables…” Therese lists, motioning at all the different food they’d made. “And stuffing.” 

“All of it!” Rindy exclaims so Therese begins to serve her a plate.

“You look tired baby.” Carol says, leaning against the doorframe. 

“No.” Rindy shakes her head but yawns just after. “Airplanes make me sleepy.” 

“I bet they do.” Abby says, coming back to the table with the same kind of sippy cup Therese had seen on her first visit. “Here— this has some cranberry juice in it. Festive.” 

“Oh thank you.” Rindy says, and takes a few gulps of it. 

Abby goes to stand beside Carol. “I watered it down a little, like you usually do.” She whispers. 

“Thank you.” Carol replies. 

A slam from the hall has them turning to see Harge in the main hall, having unceremoniously dropped Rindy’s luggage next to the bench, he seems to have placed all of the presents nicely. 

“We be nice with my case!” Rindy says, almost scolding. He doesn’t acknowledge her though, he’s looking at Therese who had paused in cutting up some turkey for Rindy to stare back at him. 

“You’re really pushing it Carol.” Harge says flatly. 

“I have no idea what you mean, Harge.” She replies, stepping through the living room keeping several feet between them. Abby hovers a few feet back, still at the doorway, an eye on both Therese and on Carol’s conversation with Harge. 

“You know I don’t want them around Rindy.” He says.

“You have made that very clear.” Carol says. “I’m not keeping Rindy from her godmother, and there’s no reason to keep her from Therese either.” 

“You’ve got the instincts of a rock if you can’t see the red flags.” 

“I don’t think the red flags you’re seeing are your parental instincts.” 

Harge bristles, sighing heavily. 

“Have a nice night, Harge. Our dinner is getting cold.” Carol doesn’t give him any room to argue.

Therese sees Abby smile smugly, and Harge goes to the door. Carol puts her hand on it, ready to close it.

“I won’t let you poison her against me. I won’t let you pervert her— make her like you.” Harge says. 

“She’s _four_ , Harge.” Carol nearly raises her voice. “She doesn’t have to think about anything like that for at least ten years.”

He points back into the house, sounding disgusted. “You already exposed her to it— make her think it’s natural— right to have relations—” 

“There is nothing _unnatural_ or _wrong_ about who I love.” Carol says frankly. “The only thing I will be teaching Rindy is that she should expect nothing but kindness and understanding and respect from the people who love her.” 

“You try make that lesbianism sound so righteous. You’ll see, people don’t think it’s so pure, you’ll see.” 

“If you think what we had— _just because_ we’re a woman and a man— was more _pure_ than any of the love I’ve had for a woman, then you have a bigger problem then I can hope to fix.” Carol starts to close the door but stops, seeing Harge’s clenched fist at his side. 

Carol takes a deep breath. “You’re about fifty years behind the times, Harge. Don’t come to the house again. I don’t want to hear from you unless it’s through our lawyers. Not a thing.” 

She shuts the door and locks it, and turns off the light in the entrance. Carol waits until she hears Harge mutter something incomprehensible, his boots crunching over the snow and stone driveway. Satisfied, she turns away and returns to the dining room, accepting Abby’s comforting hand on her back.

“You did good, sweetie.” Abby reassures. 

“Thank you.” 

Therese looks up from her place, having finished cutting up Rindy’s food, and even poured some gravy on it. 

“Did Daddy go, Mumma?” Rindy asks, and Carols steps over to her, running a hand over her hair and making her giggle. 

“He did baby, but he brought your presents from Grandma and Grandpa inside though.” 

“Oh okay. Did you open your presents yet Mumma?” Rindy spears a piece of carrot with her fork and puts it in her mouth. 

“No, there are still plenty of presents under the tree to open.” Carol assures, and nods for everyone to take their seats again. Abby and Therese oblige, finding their places and resuming their meal. 

“Merry Christmas.” Therese says, holding her glass up in a toast. 

Carol lifts her glass, and so does Abby, and Rindy lifts her sippy cup by the handle. 

“A toast to being surrounded by loved ones.” Abby says. 

“Agreed.” Says Carol, smiling. 

“Let’s eat!” Rindy says loudly, putting her sippy cup down a enthusiastic thwack. 

“Calm with the furniture Rindy!” Carol says with a gasp. 

“I am not calm Mumma, I’m _ravished_!” She stabs at a piece of turkey.

Abby chokes on her wine. Carol bursts into laughter. 

“I think you mean ‘famished’, Rindy.” Therese corrects, barely containing her own laughter. 

“Fine fine! I am _fam_ -ished!” Rindy repeats, exasperatedly eating her bite of turkey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments! I hope you enjoyed this massive chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very unedited, I will hopefully get around to doing so at a later date, until then I can only hope that your reading is not impaired by any typos!   
> It's another long one, but a little shorter than the last one.  
> Enjoy!

“I need to jump in it!” Rindy announces, practically leaning out of the chair set up just near enough to the window to see out into the front yard. She is sitting with Abby who has a hand on her leg, making sure she doesn’t fall. They had not finished opening presents before Rindy became distracted by the fat fluffy flakes falling outside the windows. She was overjoyed by the new animal toys she’d been given, a platypus and and a pangolin who were soft but very beautiful and rather realistic looking. But she wasn’t as excited with the clothes or books her grandmother had gotten her, as Carol had insisted she show off the gifts she’d received on her trip. 

The books were very girly, as Therese noticed, the art covered in pinks and purples and yellows, and depicting little girls with problems akin to tearing her favourite dress or the horror of having to cut her hair short because someone got gum in it. They were good lessons, Therese could tell as she sipped a glass of wine and looked them over; learning the valuable skill of sewing to preserve the things you love, and the that hair grows back and does not define your beauty. But those lessons didn’t matter to Rindy, whose other already mended and often made her clothes, and who already wore her hair at a manageable chin-length and didn’t enjoy it getting in her face to begin with. 

She liked the sweatshirt with an alligator on the front that Harge had bought her, and the dress with venus fly traps on it from Abby, but had merely expressed learned politeness for the floral pair of pajamas from grandma, who ultimately had only been spot on with a pair of overalls with a monarch butterfly and caterpillar patch on the wide front pocket— and only because, “It’s po-shun-us, it eats milkweed as a caterpillar and when it’s a butterfly it’s potion-us!” 

“Poi-son-us. Poisonous.” Carol tries enunciating it for Rindy. 

“Pow-ee-sun-us, poi-son-ous.” It’s almost right when she says it, having learned to repeat the right pronunciations, but she was already neck deep into her next present by then. A _THAWOOMP_ of snow falling off the roof and past the living room window had pulled Rindy’s attention and drawn her over to the window, realigning her priorities to the glorious carpet of snow outside the house. 

“You _need_ to!?” Abby asks tickling Rindy’s belly and making her giggle. 

“Yes I do!” She says, and clambers off the chair. Going over to Carol who is sitting cross legged on the floor with an armful of torn wrapping paper. “Can we go outside Mumma? Please?” 

Carol looks at the time, giving Rindy a sympathetic smile. “It’s almost bedtime and you said the plane made you sleepy.” 

“But Mumma it’s Christmas!” Rindy says earnestly. “Just enough minutes to jump in the snow?” 

“I’ll give you thirty minutes, okay? That’s half an hour.” Carol tells her and Rindy squeals with joy. 

“Aunt Abby Aunt Abby will you come with me! Will you?” She bounds back over to Abby, who laughs and stands. 

“I’ll come. Let’s go get your snow suit on.” 

Rindy runs into the hallway and pulls open the closet door by herself as Abby follows. 

“Terry and Mumma will watch right?” She says, trying to tug her snow suit free of the hanger, Abby gets it down for her. 

“We’ll watch.” Carol promises. “From the porch.” 

Abby finds herself a pair of snow pants and steps into them, and Carol gives an amused sigh. 

“You’re going to go all the way out with her?” She asks, an Abby shrugs. 

“May as well.” 

In record time Rindy gets her snow suit on and she and Abby make their way to the back of the house. Therese stands, taking a final sip of her wine, emptying the glass. 

“Do you want some more?” Carol asks, and Therese offers an arm to help her up. The back door opens, and Abby calls out. 

“Thirty minutes starting now!” She closes the door behind them. 

“No— thank you. I already had the spiked hot chocolate.” She smiles when Carol leans in to kiss her, as if she can’t help herself. “Besides, too much wine makes me feel naughty… in a good way.”

“I think you’re already there.” Carol says, raising an amused brow. 

Therese gives a pensive hum. “Not because of the alcohol.” She says in a lightly singsong voice, as she slips past Carol toward the kitchen. 

Carol catches her hand, and tugs her back, just hard enough that Therese has to brace a hand against Carol’s shoulder so as not to knock into her. Carol slips a hand around to the small of Therese’s back, leaning the bridge of her nose against Therese’s— she tries to kiss Carol, but Carol leans back, smiling. 

“I would have you right here and right now if we weren’t guaranteed to be interrupted too soon.” The way she says it leaves Therese feeling a little jelly-legged. She way she says it sounds like a promise. 

“Too soon?” Therese breathes, she has no frame of reference for how long intimacy is supposed to last.

“You’re so cute.” Carol says, and lets Therese kiss her. It’s not rushed or rough like it had been earlier, but Therese feels like she’s on fire, find it so easy to part her lips against Carol’s and relax into her touch. She gives a little contented moan, sighing as she leans away. 

“ _Have me_ , I want you.” Therese admits, and Carol chuckles sweetly. 

“We’ll see if jumping in the snow makes bedtime go by any quicker.” Carol muses, and Therese breathes a laugh. 

Carol lets Therese go and steps over to the closet, taking down two wool shawls. 

“Here— and borrow some slippers. The back porch is covered.” 

Therese takes it and wraps it around herself, toeing on some slippers and following Carol back to the kitchen. They step out into the chilly night air and spot Rindy giggling as she jumps and rolls and spreads her arms to make angels. They find a bench-swing snow free and sit down.

“Mumma I’ve made six snow angels already!” Rindy calls sitting up and waving. Therese waves back. 

Abby lies a few feet away, making her own angel. Rindy jumps on her and they both laugh. 

Therese leans her head on Carol’s shoulder.

“Do you mind the hickeys?” She asks quietly, thinking about what Abby had said. That Harge could have gotten angry (or violent) if he had seen them. “I should have asked.” 

“I could have told you to try somewhere else.” Carol replies. “I don’t mind them.”

“You should give me some more.” Therese says. 

“I should?” 

Therese nods. “They felt really nice.”

“Haven’t you gotten any before?” Carol asks skeptically. 

“No.” Therese says. “Never let anyone linger long enough to ever leave a mark.” 

She feels Carol’s hum as she hears it. 

“Twenty minutes.” Carol says nonchalantly. 

Therese gives a light huff. 

“Now you’re just teasing.” She accuses. 

“Yes.” Carol saws with a laugh. 

 

~**~ 

 

Rindy barely makes it through one book before she’s out like a light. Teeth and hair brushing, going pee before bed, washing her face with a nice warm wash cloth and getting into her pajamas goes like a breeze. Carol had assumed correctly, the impromptu snow adventure had tuckered Rindy out that she was a marionette to the bedtime routine, almost half asleep but fighting it, insisting that Therese read her a book. She chose an interactive one, but Rindy stopped interacting, her head dropping from where she had leaned against Therese’s arm onto her pillow with a little thump. 

Therese looks over at Abby and Carol, sitting on the two child sized chairs around a child sized table. Abby gives her a thumbs up. 

“She’s out.” Abby grins, cheeks still pink from the cold. “Let’s go.” 

And out they go. Therese looks back once more, pleased to see Rindy clinging to her elephant toy and sound asleep. She closes the door behind her and makes her way downstairs. Back in the living room, Abby is helping clean up the errant wrapping paper, and Carol, seeming a little withdrawn, is placing the presents Rindy had opened into some coherent arrangement so no one steps on them. Therese merely stands, not sure where to help or how.

“I’ll have her bring these to her room tomorrow.” Carol says idly. “And open the last few…” She laughs. It’s a bit flat. 

“Cherish that whimsy she’s got.” Abby says affectionately, not seeming to notice Carol’s change in demeanor— or perhaps not acknowledging it. “Her excitement for non-material things is precious.” 

“Oh you know I will.” Carol says, a little bit of her spark returning. Therese steps over to the couch and takes a seat, reclining and watching Carol with a calm attention.

“I’m gonna head out.” Abby says, balling up the wrapping paper in her hands. “But I want you to open the present I got for you first.” She gives a slight wave, and heads into the kitchen to put the paper in the recycle. 

Carol finds the present from Abby, and takes a seat next to Therese, straight back and tight posture. Therese reaches out and touches Carol’s back which makes her lose some of the tension. Carol holds the gift on her lap, fingers hesitating at the edges of the wrapping. 

When Abby returns, Carol carefully removes the paper, placing it aside and taking a good look at her gift. It’s a set of keys. 

“Oh you finished it?!” Carol’s face lights up and Abby grins at her.

“Two days ago.” She says. 

“What did you finish?” Therese asks. 

“My chalet.” Carol replies. “She redesigned it for me.” 

“You can go up any time.” Abby encourages. 

Carol looks at her, shaking her head. “You have to come and show it all off.” She insists. 

“I’m sick of it.” Abby says jokingly. “If I set another foot in it before it looks lived in again I’ll crack and try to redo it all over.” 

Carol laughs knowingly. “I’d almost forgotten about it.” 

“You’ve had a lot on your mind.” Abby says.

“And it took you almost six months.” Carol scolds. 

“I couldn’t let you see it until I got that final piece. I was stuck negotiating with a buyer for _weeks_ to get it.” 

“And you still won’t tell me what exactly the piece is?” Carol says, already knowing the answer. 

Therese watches their interaction with a sober fondness. 

“Nope, you’ll know it when you see it!” Abby says, matter-of-factly. Therese wonders if Rindy got that from her. “Now I’m gonna go, any more snow and the roads will be shit.” 

Therese laughs. She and Carol stand. Abby hugs Carol. 

“Thank you hon, this is a wonderful gift.” 

“You knew it was coming eventually.” Abby teases, and steps over to hug Therese as well, much more tightly and affectionately than she could have expected. 

“It was nice to meet you, Therese. You’re a sweet girl.” Abby says genuinely. 

“It was really nice to meet you too.” Therese replies. “And to see how much Rindy adores you.” 

“That little girl loves just about anyone who will listen to her interests.” Abby says, stepping away. “She’s quick as a whip. Just like her mom.” 

Carol shakes her head, having heard that line before. “Drive safe.” She says. “Text me when you’re home.”

“I will.” She smiles, and goes to get her coat and boots on again. The snow pants she had worn are on a hook next to the heater. 

“Have a good evening.” Abby winks at Therese, making her blush. 

Carol sees her to the front door and Therese stands, leaning against the door frame. 

“Merry Christmas.” Therese says. 

Abby smiles back at her. “Merry Christmas. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” 

“Yes, I’m sure.” 

She and Carol hug again and promise to make plans for the new year. Carol holds the door for her and she takes her leave. “Thanks for the lovely meal.”

“I had a great helper.” Carol laughs, and Therese waves. 

And then the door is closed and they are alone.

 

~**~ 

 

Therese finds herself on the couch again, reclined as she had been while she watched Carol open her gift. But carol sits next to her now, with a tablet in hand, swiping through photos of the chalet. 

“I should show you…” She’d said, and let Therese lean her head on her shoulder while she pulled up the album. 

The chalet looks homely. With four bedrooms and two living rooms, one of which was being used as an office space and the larger of the two hosting a large fireplace. The kitchen seemed a little smaller than the one in Carol’s home, but none the less inviting. What Therese admired was the marrying of the house’s original charms with the upgrades. The wood from the floors had been taken up but reused, the gaudy tiles in the bathrooms had been taken down and reassembled in a different pattern, adding new ones into the mix.

Carol told her the whole place had been updated, the wiring and the plumbing, and the furniture. Abby had done the redesign, finding vintage furniture and restoring them, or merely finding unique furniture pieces. Carol hasn’t seen the new design yet, and despite having photos of the remodel seeing the finished product would be a treat. 

“I’m looking forward to seeing it. I think I’ll take Rindy up soon.” The affection in her voice is genuine but distant, and Therese lifts her head from Carol’s shoulder. She reaches over and stroke some hair away from Carol’s face, tucking it behind her ear before slipping her fingers into Carol’s hair to cradle her head. 

“Something’s bothering you.” Therese says, and watches Carol swallow thickly. 

“You can see that huh?” Carol looks at her, leaning into Therese’s touch. 

“I can see a lot.” Therese admits. “I’m pretty sure Abby noticed too, she just didn’t say anything.” 

“That was nice of her.” Carol laughs, there’s a touch of grief in the sound. 

“What’s the matter?” Therese asks, putting her hand on Carol’s leg, rubbing over a spot with her thumb. 

Carol is quiet for a few seconds, taking a few slow and calm breaths. 

“She has a bruise.” She says. “Pretty big, a discoloured, more red and purple in the middle and purple and green around the edges.” 

Therese doesn’t know what to say. So she doesn’t say anything. When Carol looks at her there is a fierceness in her gaze that makes her respect Carol all the more.

“She was so sleepy I couldn’t ask her about it. But it didn’t look like it was bothering her…”

“On the phone…” Therese proposes. “Harge said that she was having tantrums— that she kicked her grandma and he had to restrain her.” 

Carol nods, jaw clenching. Therese flexes her hand in Carol’s hair, a gentle pressure that has Carol closing her eyes. 

“I understand Rindy having a meltdown without her elephant.” Carol shakes her head. “But once she got it back, I… I don’t understand why she would. She rarely has tantrums with me, or Florence— and we always resolve it before it gets to kicking and screaming.” 

“Disney World is _the_ over-stimulation capital of the US.” Therese says plainly, and Carol gives a laugh, an amused one. 

“Maybe.” Carol says thoughtfully. “I’ll see what she has to say about it.” 

“It’ll be alright.” Therese assures.

“Eventually.” Carol sighs. 

Therese leans in intent on kissing Carol’s cheek, but Carol turns her head at the last moment and catches her in a kiss. She chuckles when Therese squeaks. 

“I was aiming for your cheek.” Therese says, and Carol smiles. 

“I’m not complaining.” She replies, setting the tablet to the other side of the couch. “Come closer.”

Therese stands, slipping her hand from Carol’s hair to stand over her, bracing a knee on one side of Carol’s lap and straddling her. She had only done this one other time, and she had felt very differently about it then than she does at this moment. 

Carol’s hands finds Therese’s backside, pulling her nearer, watching her face as she braces her arms against Carol’s shoulders.

“Comfortable?” Carol asks, and Therese nods. 

“Very.” She says, trying to hide her smile when Carol palms her ass a little more familiarly. 

Therese leans in and kisses Carol again, languid and homely. Two days and yet it feels like the most natural thing to do. Carol is quick to bring one hand up Therese’s back, under her shirt, pressing her fingers against Therese’s skin. Her hands are cold by contrast, making Therese arch away instinctively, against her, almost flush. 

Carol parts her lips, smiling when she is met with Therese’s eager response, and drags her teeth across Therese’s bottom lip. Therese draws her hand over Carol’s neck, finding the collar of the turtle neck and loop two fingers under it and giving it a light tug. 

“This is in my way.” Therese says, and Carol begins to sit forward. 

“Then help me take it off.” She says, and slips her hand away from Therese’s back, to the hem of her. First the cardigan, which Therese peels off Carol’s arms, and then the turtleneck, which Therese takes the liberty of pulling up and over Carol’s head, tossing it to the other side of the couch. 

In the kitchen, Therese had merely felt the fabric of Carol’s bra, but now in the lights of the Christmas tree she can see it and Carol’s breasts, for herself. She draws her fingers over the curve of Carol’s left breast, dipping to her sternum. She must make a sound because Carol laughs, and Therese lifts her gaze to meet Carol’s. 

“You look like you haven’t seen a woman before.” She teases, and Therese smiles. 

“Mine don’t look like this.” Therese replies, sliding her palm over Carol’s breast and giving it a squeeze. “Mine don’t look like this at all.” 

Therese ducks her head, finding Carol’s neck with her lips again. Carol groans and leans her head back, hands returning to Therese’s ass to knead and tug her closer. Therese drags her teeth over Carol’s neck, finding herself enjoying all too much the feeling of her pulse jumping under her tongue, and the reverberation of her moan against her lips. With perhaps two new blotchy love bites on Carol’s neck, Therese ducks lower, finding Carol’s collarbones and the rise of her breasts. 

“Use a little teeth.” Carol says breathlessly as Therese nurtures another hickey against Carol’s right breast. Carol’s hand slips into Therese’s hair and grips with enough pressure to leave her gasping. Therese indulges her, biting down as she makes the hickey bigger, feeling Carol shudder. She sucks a mark onto the skin of Carol’s breast just beside her sternum, when Carol pulls her hair and has her giving a heady whimper. 

“Do you like that?” Carol asks, drawing Therese back to her while maintaining that grip on her hair. 

“I do.” Therese gasps, giving a little moan when Carol takes her own turn with Therese’s neck. Where she had been more conspicuous with her choice of placement earlier, now she drags her lips over almost inch of Therese’s neck, much more liberal with her teeth and tongue, leaving Therese’s guessing but vaguely aware of where her own love bites may reside. They leave a wonderful ache on her skin, but not as wonderful as the ache on her scalp when Carol flexes her hand. 

Therese rolls her hips against Carol’s, and the way she practically growls against Therese’s neck has her repeating the motion. Carol slides her hand to Therese’s hip, encouraging her. 

“I wish I could take a picture of this.” Carol breathes, leaning back, gazing at Therese with her head pulled back, Carol’s hand in her hair and a look of concentrated enjoyment on her face. Therese smiles, giving a breath of a laugh. She slowly lifts her head, and looks wanton and heavily at Carol, a satisfied and longing gaze. 

“Do you like the view?” She asks, and Carol kisses her again, briefly and with a contented hum. 

“I don’t even have the words to describe how good you look.” Carol replies. “Good enough to eat.” 

Therese laughs, and Carol slips her hand to the buttons of Therese’s trousers. 

“May I?” She asks, and Therese nods.

“Yes.” Therese answers, kissing Carol deeply and firmly as she drops her hand from her hair to blindly undo the button and zipper. She feels so warm from head to toe, and slips her hand from Carol’s chest to her side, feeling so clumsy again, lacking purchase. Carol wraps her arm around Therese’s waist, drawing her closer as she dips her left hand into Therese’s trousers, over her underwear. 

There had been hands there before, rougher and less graceful, less keen. Carol’s hand is searching, and Therese shudders, lips parting to suck in some grounding breaths as she feels Carol get closer to her than she’d ever wanted anyone to be before. The heel of Carol’s hand presses surely against Therese’s clitoris, drawing a soft whimper from her lips. 

“Oh—” she breathes. To be touched there was not entirely foreign, but to be touched there by someone who evoked such strong feelings in her is entirely new and exhilarating.

“Alright?” Carol asks, moving her hand in a slow circular motion. Therese nods, kissing Carol again just as a moan slips past her lips, which makes Carol grin and press a little more persistently. 

If it weren’t for the hand at Therese’s waist she would surely be squirming against Carol’s ministrations— as it stands she finds herself pressing her hips into Carol’s hand, feeling her lower body give little starts when Carol finds a good angle and if committed would surely leave Therese quivering. 

“Have me.” She says, an edge of desperation to her tone. “ _Have me_.” 

Carol hums in acknowledgment, lifting a hand to the back of Therese’s neck and kissing her soundly. 

“Let me take you to bed.”

“Please.” Therese sighs, and Carol smiles again.

She pulls her hand out of Therese’s trousers, returning both hands to her hip and easing her up. Therese more than accommodates her, holding out a hand once she's standing again to help Carol up. 

In something akin to a dance, they make their way up stairs, pausing to steal kisses from one another, getting sidetracked in each other’s arms, making the awkward ascent up the stairs until they make it to Carol’s bedroom. She closes the door behind them, and Therese circles her arms around her waist from behind, pressing her lips to her shoulder and finding a new place to suck to trace her tongue over Carol’s freckles. Her hands find Carol’s waistband and undo the button and zipper of her trousers as well, and helps them off her hips. 

“What are you thinking about?” Carol asks, stepping out of her trousers without leaving Therese’s embrace, she leans into her.

“How soft you are.” Therese nuzzles her neck, drawing her hands over Carol’s hips, and tummy, and breasts and back down, ghosting over the front of her underwear. She isn’t as bold as Carol, ever so tentative as she dips her hand between Carol’s legs, making her sigh. 

“Tease.” Carol breathes a laugh. 

“Maybe.” Therese replies, and Carol turns around, hands moving to the front of Therese’s shirt. 

She helps Therese take it off, and then her bra, but doesn’t touch or caress her— her hands go to Therese’s trousers, pushing them off and holding her up as she steps out of them, leading her backwards to the bed. Therese scoots back to the center, gazing up at Carol as she kneels over her, staggering her knees between Therese’s thighs, bracing herself on her forearm as she leans down to kiss her. 

Therese reaches up, pulling Carol down flush against her and sighs at the feeling of skin on skin. Carol’s free hand slides down to find Therese’s breast and she hums appreciatively. Therese’s breast fits perfectly in Carol’s hand, and she gives a gentle squeeze before kissing her way down Therese’s body, finding her collar bone and drawing her tongue over the dip between chest and neck, and lower still. Therese cannot help but sigh and slips her hand into Carol’s hair as she finds the valley between Therese’s barely B breasts and decides the skin there needs some hickeys. 

“I remember when my tits were this small.” Carol murmurs, and Therese laughs. 

Carol lowers her hips against Therese’s, and she draws her knees up to frame Carol between her legs. It’s Carol’s turn to roll her hips, and finds she likes the way Therese whimpers when she does it, and so continues to gently rock her hips into Therese’s. Her mouth finds Therese’s nipple, and she cries out sharply when Carol bites down on it, clamping a hand over her mouth as she continues to moan as Carol soothes her tongue over it, before moving on to the other. 

“Shall I have you with my mouth or my hand?” Carol asks, propping herself up above Therese and kissing her lightly. 

Therese’s cheeks burn, and she feels that whole body blush again, she stares up at Carol in disbelief. 

“All of it.” She replies, at a loss for words for how overwhelmed she is. 

Carol merely smiles. “Hand first then.” She says and leans in again, kissing Therese as she dips her hand over her tummy and slips it into Therese’s underwear. They both moan as Carol finds Therese wet and warm and smooths her fingers over the length of her before finding her clitoris and beginning her ministrations. 

Therese is little more than a quivery, whimpering puddle beneath her and Carol has to use her weight to keep Therese from squirming too much under her touch. They kiss until Therese is too distracted, lips parted to breathe and a concentrated frown on her face— so Carol peppers kisses to her cheeks and neck, feeling her quick and heavy breathing. Therese keeps one hand on the duvet next to her head, the other on Carol’s shoulder, nails digging into Carol’s skin for purchase. 

“Can I put my fingers inside you?” Carol asks, and watches Therese open her eyes and look at her. 

“Yes.” She agrees, but there is uncertainty in her eyes. She hadn’t liked it when Rick had been inside her. But this is different, this is Carol and Therese has never felt more aroused her life. “I want you inside me.” 

Carol practically purrs, changing the position of her hand, to draws two fingers down lower, stroking Therese with her fingertips before slipping them slowly but purposefully into her. Therese takes a sharp breath, pressing her head back against the bed and arching her back a little— she shuts her eyes. 

“Oh— oh fuck.” She gasps, and Carol chuckles, beginning to pump her fingers slowly, maintaining contact with Therese’s clit with her thumb and the heel of her hand. 

This time there is no hope for focused kisses, Therese is utterly distracted by Carol’s ministrations, tries to kiss her and ends up whimpering against her lips, not that Carol minds in the slightest. Being able to watch Therese come undone is enough of a pleasure already. 

“Right there, right _there_!” Therese whines, pressing her head back harder against the bed, gasping, and Carol complies, maintaining her pace, but curling her fingers inside of Therese. She feels her walls clench before something near a shriek and a sob leaves Therese’s throat before she clamps her hand back over her mouth and dissolves into whimpers, body going tight and giving a shudder as Carol eases her through her orgasm.

Her head is swimming and every sense is Carol Carol Carol. She turns her head and somehow manages to kiss her coherently, humming sweetly as she brings her hand up to cup Carol’s cheek. She only notices when she parts her lips that Carol is still stroking her between her legs and she shudders and groans against Carol’s mouth. 

“How was that?” Carol asks, smiling down at Therese’s love-drunk expression. Therese smiles, a giggle sneaking past her lips, which Carol kisses chastely. 

“Oh—” Therese shuts her eyes, trying to collect her brain and her tongue. “Good.” She manages. “Really good.” 

Carol laughs and kisses Therese’s neck, taking her hand from between Therese’s legs and bringing it to her side. 

“You look so cute.” Carol muses, placing kisses high on Therese’s cheek, near her eye, her temple. “Good enough to eat, especially after that.” 

Therese manages a laugh, stroking her hand over Carol’s arm, and looking at her again. 

“You may.” She says, and Carol gives her jaw a little bite before sitting herself up. 

“You sure you don’t want a break?” Carol asks, drawing her hand over Therese’s thigh. 

Therese lets her leg fall to the side, and shakes her head. “No, go ahead.” 

Carol laughs to herself, and tugs at Therese’s underwear, for which she lifts her hips and let’s Carol slip off her legs. Carol readjusts her position, kissing her way down Therese’s tummy, lingering next to her navel— giving her a moment regardless— to leave another patch of hickeys that follows Therese’s ever subtle treasure trail. 

With an arm draped over Therese’s hip, Carol uses her other to part Therese’s lips. She draws her tongue up the length of her, earning herself a distant moan and a full body shudder. Therese reaches down as Carol’s lips and tongue find her clit anew and takes Carol’s free hand in a tight grip that Carol reciprocates, and she feels more than hears Carol chuckle at the way she gives little starts, already sensitive from Carol’s earlier ministrations. 

Therese hums shakily, already feeling that familiar pressure low in her belly— that makes her toes curl and her breaths come in slow and concentrated. She gasps and whimpers when Carol sucks at her, the sounds dissolving into the little clipped moans that slip out with her every quick exhalation. 

“Oh my go— oh— fuck fuck…” Is all Therese manages when Carol does something with her mouth that has Therese almost seeing stars. She wails, half sitting up while Carol holds her hips down, and that pressure jumps from an almost to a right now, and it’s so intense it could almost be pain but why would pain have her wanting it so badly? 

A calm tongue eases her from the intensity of her second orgasm, and she’s sure she had to remind herself to breathe. 

“Come back here.” Therese mutters, nudging Carol’s head with her hand, whimpering and shuddering when Carol offers one last lick to her clit before peppering kisses up her body. “Kiss me… kiss me…” Therese whines, and she stalls no more, coming up to cradle Therese’s face and kiss her deeply. It’s Therese who parts her lips, knowing she would taste herself on Carol’s tongue. 

“I want to try.” Therese says, as Carol settles beside her, stroking her hair. “I want to make you come.” 

“There’s no rush.” Carol replies. “I wanted to do that for you.” 

Therese smiles. “I’m fine. I want to.” She runs her hand down to Carol’s hip, hooking a finger through the band of her underwear. “Will you let me?” 

Carol looks at her, an ocean in her eyes, and nods. “Okay.”

“Lie back.” Therese instructs, sitting up and trying to stifle a groan as she moves to sit between Carol’s legs. She pulls Carol’s underwear off, free from one leg before the other and tosses it aside, guiding one of Carol’s legs to the side, hooked over Therese’s hip. With an unpracticed but determined hand, Therese strokes over the dark blonde tresses of Carol’s hair before dipping her fingers between her legs. 

If she didn’t think she could feel more aroused, the feeling of Carol’s wetness instills a feeling of want and pride in her. Therese wets her lips and turns her gaze to Carol who watches her with an appreciative gaze. 

“It’s all for your.” She says, Therese has to close her eyes as a wave of giddy timidness washes over her. 

With a heavy breath, Therese finds Carol’s clit, and watches Carol’s abs tighten as she forces herself not to move. She begins an investigative pattern, little circles around the bundle of nerves, much the way Carol had pleased her. To hear Carol sigh and lean her head back against the bed is true encouragement, and to watch her chest rise and fall— breasts still hidden in her bra, is truly a delight. 

“You can finger me if you want.” Carol permits, her right hand a fist over her tummy. Therese leans forward, drawing her other arm around Carol’s leg. 

“How many?” Therese asks, realizing such a thing could be asked. 

“Try me.” Carol replies and Therese’s cheeks burn. 

She slips her right hand lower, using her left to take over ministrations at Carol’s clit. She slips in two fingers, hearing a soft sound from Carol, and begins to pump her hand at a steady pace. The combined actions earn her a shudder from Carol and her first whimper— it’s like a drug, to see her uneven rise and fall of Carol’s chest as she pleases her. She slips in a third finger, and feels little twitches in Carol's thigh and the her hips quivering when she touches her just right. 

“To the left.” Carol pants, grabbing Therese’s hand and guiding her fingers. “Half circles— ri—right there!” 

Therese can feel her heart kicking in her chest, obliging and moving her fingers against her in little arches, pumping her fingers a little harder. Carol gives a heady groan balls the duvet up in her fist, breath coming in gasps. With nothing to consider but instinct, Therese pushes her fingers knuckles deep into Carol and curls them— and feels Carol’s heel dig into her hip. She goes tight around Therese’s fingers, and a growling cry leaves her throat. Therese uncurls her fingers only when Carol relaxes, gently continuing to please her as she removes her fingers and takes a few deep breaths. 

“You’ve never done that before?” Carol asks, gathering her bearings. 

“No.” 

Carol takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, sounding like laughter. “Thank you.” 

“For what.” Therese shifts her position, letting Carol bring her legs together and roll onto her side, facing her as she sits bracing her sex covered hands on her lap. 

“For the gift if being your first.” Carol says, and rests her hand over Therese’s knee, stroking it gently. 

“I…” She smiles sheepishly. “I… you’re— I’ve never _wanted_ to be with someone like this until you.”

“I take that as a compliment.” 

“That was very good. I don’t think I’ve… uh— had an orgasm before.” It’s a little embarrassing to admit. 

“Not even with _yourself_?” Carol’s tone is sympathetic. 

Therese shakes her head. “I couldn’t manage it by myself.” She shrugs. “And I never could with Rick, it hurt with him— but he tried really hard to make it good for me.” The last bit she adds, hardly wanting to paint a bad picture of him. It wasn’t fair, she hadn’t known herself when she was with him. 

“I understand.” Carol assures. 

Therese continues to sit, hands awkward in her lap, not knowing what to do with them. 

“I need to wash my hands.” She says finally, and Carol grins, pointing beyond the bed. 

“The en-suite is just there.” 

Therese gets off the bed. 

“Therese—” 

She looks at Carol. 

“Try to pee.” 

“Why?” 

“Don’t you know you could get a UTI from sex?” 

“Oh. That makes a lot of sense.” She shakes her head, and steps over to the washroom. 

“Feel free to use a washcloth to clean up a bit— they’re on the shelf.” 

How odd it seems, to think of things so clinically when she is still reeling from the passion and the intimacy she had just experienced. Therese washes her hands, and takes Carol’s advice— both— and finds herself marveling at how sensitive she feels brushing the soft cloth between her legs. She thoroughly rinses the cloth and hangs it up, before splashing some hot water on her face and patting it try with a hand-towel. 

The first thing Therese notices when she looks at herself in the mirror is the state of her hickeys. She brushes her fingers against the ones just adjacent to her happy trail, and cants her head to see the wonderful mess Carol had made of her neck. They don’t hurt, but there is a ghost of an ache in her memory that has her feeling proud and wanted and sexy. Her hair though, not sexy, sex tangled. On a whim she grabs the nearest hair brush off the counter and wets it, dragging it through her dark tresses until it’s tangle free and pretty. 

She cleans the hair from the brush as a puts it in the little trash bin by the sink. There’s a soft knock at the door. 

“You can open it.” Therese says, gaze drawn back to her reflection, fingers ghosting over the love bites near her breast. 

Carol open the door and peaks in, smiling at the sight of Therese. 

“Everything alright?” She asks, and Therese’s gaze is drawn to Carol’s hickey’s in the mirror. 

“Yes.” Therese replies, turning around, and looking Carol over. 

“I like them.” Carol says, before Therese has to ask. Therese smiles. 

“I like mine too.” 

Carol laughs and kisses Therese, who gives a happy little hum. 

“Scoot, I need the washroom.” They trade places. “I turned the bed down.” Carol adds. 

“My clothes are… in my bag downstairs.” Therese says, realizing. 

“It’s just us.” Carol reminds. “But if you’d be more comfortable, you can take a blanket?” 

Therese shakes her head, grinning. “Alright.” 

“Be out in a bit.” Carol says, and shuts the door gently. 

Carol had taken the duvet off the bed and exchanged it for a handful of blankets. Therese runs her hand over the sheets, finds them soft and inviting— but the need for her bag and her clothes wins. Therese takes one of the softest blankets, wraps it around herself and makes her way out of the room, hearing the sink running before she makes it to the stairs. It’s a quick trip, Therese feels inclined to turn off some lights while she’s downstairs, only leaving the Christmas tree on. With her bag in hand she climbs the stairs again, returning to Carol’s bedroom to find her in a new pair of underwear and a grey t-shirt. 

“Come to bed.” She says softly, patting the space beside her. Therese grins, tossing the blanket at her, which Carol hugs playfully. 

“I need to get dressed.” Therese says, setting the bag on a nearby chair and fishing out a shirt and underwear. Black boxer briefs with a thick elastic waistband. She puts those on and then the shirt, a green tank top.

“Won’t you be cold?” Carol asks, only half seriously. 

“Not while I’m sharing with you.” Therese replies, and finally joins her, immediately going in for a kiss.

“You are a very nice bedmate.” Carol compliments, hand finding her jaw. 

“I have a lot to learn.” 

Carol laughs again, reaching behind her to turn the light off. “If you can do what you did on your first try, I can only imagine what you’ll be able to do by the fifth, or tenth, or fiftieth…” 

They settle, and Carol immediately draws Therese to her. 

Therese finds herself drifting off to the comforting knowledge that Carol wants her long term. Five, ten, fifty? How many months could that be? How much love could that make? 

Regardless. She couldn’t want anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for commenting, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another longer chapter, I've basically abandoned maintaining them at around 3.5k.  
> As per usual, I am writing and publishing these chapters as I complete them, I certainly hope the lack of editing doesn't interfere with your ease of reading.

A dip in the bed alerts Therese to a new presence in Carol’s bedroom. Therese opens her eyes, blinking against the soft light coming in behind white curtains. Rindy kneels at the end of the bed, smiling ear to ear. 

Therese has Carol’s head pillowed on her chest with her arm draped around her middle, Therese is impossibly warm in this embrace and the little girl’s arrival as not made Carol stir. 

“Hi Rindy.” Therese says, voice croaky. She smiles. 

“Hi Terry.” Rindy looks impossibly pleased. “You slept over!” She stage whispers. 

Therese nods. “I sure did.” 

“Can I come in?” She asks, and Therese nods. Rindy crawls carefully over to them, navigating Therese’s legs to settle on her other side, where there is more room for her. She climbs under the blankets and lays her head on the pillow, turning onto her side to she is facing Therese. One of her little hands, and her forehead find Therese’s back and over the course of a few minutes, Therese can sense the little girl drifting off again. 

Therese doesn’t fall back to sleep, not completely— she dozes, listening to and feeling both Carol and Rindy’s slow breathing. Carol shifts now and again, turning her cheek against Therese’s chest, flexing her hand where it lies on her hip. She sighs and hums a little too, and the first time Therese heard it, she thought Carol might be waking. 

That is only true when Carol takes a deep breath, and turns her head to hide her face against the crook of Therese’s neck, groaning lightly. She brings her hand up rubbing her eyes before she rolls onto her back and opens them, glancing at Therese who gives her a fond, sleepy smile.

“Morning.” Carol says and leans in, giving Therese a quick kiss. 

“Morning.” Therese says when Carol leans away. “We have a guest.” She motions behind her. Carol props herself up on her elbow and looks over Therese’s body, finding Rindy beside her, clinging to her t-shirt. 

“When did she come in?” Carol asks. 

Therese shrugs. “I wasn’t paying attention— two hours?” 

Carol breathes a laugh, reaching over to draw her finger over Rindy’s cheek, and then the bridge of her nose. Rindy frowns and hides her face against Therese’s back, making her laugh. 

“Wakey wakey, baby.” Carol coaxes, combing her fingers through Rindy’s hair. Rindy groans and Therese feels her stretch beside her, rolling onto her back as well and staring up at her mother. 

Therese turns as well, sitting up against the headboard, brushing her hair out of her face. 

“You didn’t tell me Terry was sleeping over.” Rindy says with a yawn, rubbing at her eyes with a little fist. 

“I guess I forgot.” Carol replies, taking Rindy under the arms, and placing her between she and Therese.

“You forgot a _sleepover_?” The incredulity in Rindy’s voice makes Therese laugh. 

“I didn’t know you were coming home, remember?” Carol prompts. “Daddy surprised me by bringing you home early. So I totally forgot to tell you about the sleepover.” 

Rindy seems to think about this for a moment. “Okay.” She sits up. “I’m hungry.” 

“Oh— alright.” Carol says. “How about you get your slippers and robe on and we’ll all go downstairs and make something to eat.” 

“Okay.” Rindy agrees, and clambers off the bed. “I’ll be faster than you!” 

“I bet you will!” Therese says, and her quick footsteps disappear down the hall. 

“I don’t think I have a turtleneck.” Therese says as they both get out of bed. 

“Borrow one of mine.” Carol says as if it were the simplest answer, she goes over to her dresser and opens a drawer. She pulls one out the same design as the one she had been wearing the evening before, but in a different colour. 

“It might be a little big on you.” Carol says with a shrug, and brings it over to Therese. It’s a deep tealy-blue. 

“As long as it covers my neck.” Therese laughs, and takes it, walking over to her bag to find the jeans she had brought with her. 

They dress quickly and in silence, Therese swapping out the shirt she’d slept in for the borrowed turtleneck, and donning a pair of warm socks before stepping into her pants. The turtleneck is a little big, but she’s never minded that. Anything more tailored to her figure felt all too formal. Therese redoes her hair, and watches Carol slip on a simple bralette before shrugging on a shirt of her own— it isn’t a turtleneck but the neckline is quite high, and Therese is somehow delighted to see Carol tie a soft silk scarf around her neck, in a similar style to how Therese had on their first lunch date. 

“I’m ready! I’m ready!” Chants Rindy from outside the bedroom door, just as Carol is pulling on her last sock. 

“You won!” Carol calls, and Rindy comes to the door. 

“I think Terry won, actually. She looks readier than me.” Rindy concludes. 

“If you say so.” Therese allows. 

“Yep, you won.” Rindy says with finality. 

Carol stands, grabbing her wrist brace from the bed side table— Therese hadn’t noticed her take it off. “Ready?” She asks as she slips it on, already walking toward the door. 

“Absolutely.” Rindy says, and heads toward the stairs, descending quickly while holding onto the banister. Carol and Therese follow more soberly, and by the time they’ve made their way into the kitchen, they can hear the scrape of chair around the table as Rindy pulls one out for each of them. 

“What would you like, Rindy?” Carol calls softly. 

“Pancakes!” Shouts Rindy. “Please!” She adds.

“With blueberries?” Rindy appears again, heading for the island and climbing up onto one of the backed stools— rather dexterously despite them being much taller than her, Therese worries for only a second that she might topple one over in her efforts, but she doesn’t. 

“Oh…” Rindy seems to think about it. “The mixed chips?” She asks sweetly, and Carol laughs. 

“How about blueberries and mixed chocolate chips?” 

“ _Both_?” Rindy says in awe.

“Yes, both.” 

“Yes _please_!” She squeals, smacking her hands against the counter top excitedly. 

“Coming up.” Carol says sagely, and glances at Therese. “Tea?” 

“Please.” 

“Me too!” Pipes Rindy. 

“Okay. The kettle is just there.” She motions, and gets down a mug for Therese, and a circle sippy cup for Rindy.

Therese goes ahead and grabs the kettle, bringing it over to the sink and filling it up. She returns it to its base and clicks it on, and it hisses to life in a few seconds. 

“What your favourite tea, Terry?” Rindy asks. 

“What ‘is’…” Carol corrects as she takes the pancake mix out of the cupboard. 

“What _is_ your favourite.” Rindy repeats. 

Therese pretends to think about it. “Hmm, I don’t know. I really like Chai though.” 

“I like lemon ginger honey.” Rindy replies. The way she says it sounds like she’s calling Terry ‘honey’.

“Do you have honey?” Therese asks. 

“Top shelf just there.” Carol points. Therese takes the mug Carol had gotten for her. 

She gets the honey down and squeezes some into the bottom of her mug. Therese passes behind Carol, a hand finding her waist as she does, and gets the tea for her and Rindy, Carol hands her a mason jar. 

“Make Rindy’s in this, I’ll have some too.” 

Therese takes the jar, setting it beside her mug and dropping the tea bag inside. She puts her own tea bag into her mug and waits for the kettle to come to a fever pitch before taking it off the base and pouring the water into her mug and the jar. 

“Rindy.” Carol says gently as she stirs the pancake batter in something that looks like a pitcher. “Daddy told me you had some tantrums while you were at Disney World.” 

Therese watches Rindy’s expression change, her cheeks turn red red red and she looks utterly distraught that Therese’s mouth drops open in surprise, especially when Rindy’s eyes well with tears and her lip quivers. 

But Carol isn’t looking at Rindy she’s taking a frying pan out. She’d only meant to bring up the topic.

“Hey…” Therese says soothingly, leaving the tea and moving over to Rindy. The little girl immediately reaches for Therese accepting her hug and giving a heavy shaky breath that has two fat tears tracking down her cheeks. Therese can read her expression as nothing less that humiliation. “You’re not in trouble.” Therese soothes.

When Therese looks over at Carol again, her expression is a mix of emotion— the likes of affection, concern and surprise all there on her face, drawing her brows into a frown. Therese takes Rindy onto her lap, rubbing her back.

“He to—tol—told you?” Rindy asks, eyes wide. She clings to the collar of Therese’s turtleneck, looking as betrayed as a four year old can look. 

Carol merely nods, and puts the frying pan down on the stove without looking away from them. “Why are you crying, baby?” She asks, as Rindy sucks in another shaky breath and more tears wet her cheeks. Rindy wipes her cheek on Therese’s shoulder, and Therese wipes the other cheek with her thumb. 

“I— I du—dunno.” She presses her hands into her eyes, quite forcefully, and Therese is quick to take her wrists away. 

“Hey, hey— don’t do that. It’s okay to cry even if you don’t know why.” Therese soothes her hand over Rindy’s hair until she relaxes her arms, and doesn’t try to press at her eyes again, but she does stick her thumb in her mouth.

“Can you tell me about the tantrums?” Carol asks, and Therese wraps an arm around Rindy’s waist, rubbing her belly comfortingly.

Rindy is quiet, little hiccups shaking her small body, and more tears dripping down her cheeks. She sniffs, leaning against Therese, as she stares back at Carol. When she replies it’s gibberish from her thumb in her mouth, so Carol gives her a moment to calm down— and it works, Rindy takes a deep breath and drops her hand, sighing reluctantly. 

“I din have elephant.” She says, a real grief in her voice. “I told Daddy elephant sleeps with me, but he said I have my Corduroy turtle to sleep with but Cordy isn’t my buddy like elephant.”

“So you missed elephant?” Carol asks, and Rindy nods. 

“I din falled a—asleep until so late because my eyes got so heav—vy and Daddy was so mad about my mi-miss—misssing elephant.”

“What about after you got elephant back?” Carol leans on the island, an earnest expression on her face.

“I din wanna see princesses but that’s— that’s all gramma wan’d. I only wan’d to see Moana.”

“Okay.” She encourages. 

Rindy continues. “I din wa—wanna see Aurora or Cinderella, I wan’d to see Peter Pan.”

For now Carol forgives the slips in pronunciation, merely needing to hear what her daughter has to say. 

“It was too loud with the princesses’n other girls, but gramma said we had to wait to meet Aurora when even I said _no thank you_.” She starts getting a grumpy expression on her face and leans more into Therese. “I said _no thank you_ , I said I wanna go see Peter instead, I said so but she said to wait for Aurora but I din wanna see Aurora.”

“So you got upset because grandma wasn’t listening to you.” Carol concludes and Rindy nods. “So grandma took you away from the princesses?” 

“She timed me out.”

“Anything else?”

“The ‘quarium.” Rindy mumbles. 

“What happened at the aquarium?” Carol’s tone and expression is nothing if not sympathetic and open. Therese values that like air, letting a child work through their emotions, and express them without fear of punishment or reprimand, it’s something Therese didn’t have at the Boarding School.

“Daddy was going too fast. Hold my hand too tight and tug me away from the tanks when I wan’d to look longer.” Rindy says, a little frown knitting her brows. “And— and other kids bumped me and Daddy would hold harder and I said _let go please_ but he still was holding me.” 

“Did he say why?” Therese asks, and Rindy shrugs. 

“Lotta people, don’t wanna get lost.” She says. “But I was looking at fishes with him just standing like there.” Rindy points to how far away Carol is. “And I was bumped and bumped by other kids and my arm was tingly sore from Daddy holding up my hand! Gramma tried to take my other hand and I din wan that, I said _no thank you no thank you I’m keeping my hand!_ I screamed _I wan my hands_ , until Daddy let go and I ranned to spot of no bumping kids but Daddy catch me was mad! I was mad! I wan’d him to lemme go, I din wan up, I wan’d to see fishes. He dropped me though, and I falled far and my side hurt, and I screamed at him and Gramma and took me up again and squeezed my arms and legs while I screamed.” 

Rindy says it all in a rush of nervous words, practiced pronunciation slipping with the emotional explanations.

“Is that how you got the bruise on your side, baby?” Carol asks, and Rindy nods. “Can I see it again?” 

“There was steps by the tanks for little kids to see in.” Rindy sticks her thumb in her mouth again, and turns, letting Therese hold her little robe aside and lift her pajama shirt. The shape of the bruise is a straight line but a bit round. 

“Does it hurt?” Therese asks, running her fingers over it with the slightest pressure. 

“Little.” Rindy replies. 

“Can I take a picture of it after breakfast?” Carol asks, and Rindy nods again. “I have a lotion we can put on it so it will get better faster and won’t hurt at all.” Carol, though with an uneasy expression on her face, returns to the pancake batter.

“Is the tea ready?” Rindy asks removing her thumb from her mouth, blinking a final tear, which Therese wipes away. 

“I think it is.” Therese says. “Can I put you down and finish making it?” Rindy nods.

Therese gives her a gentle squeeze and presses a kiss to her temple before standing and sitting Rindy back on the chair alone. Carol greases the frying pan with a little coconut oil and sets the heat on the burner. 

“Put an ice cube in her sippy cup with a little honey, would you?” Carol asks as Therese takes the tea bags out of her mug and the jar. 

“Okay.” Therese leaves the tea bags on a strip of papertowel and gets the ice cubes out of the freezer, she pops one out and puts it in the sippy cup, before squeezing a little honey in as well. Carefully, Therese pours the hot lemon ginger tea into the sippy cup as high as the ice cube will allow, watching it crack from the sudden heat.

Therese gives her own tea a stir, and then Rindy’s waiting for the ice cube to disappear before giving it to her. 

“Give it a little test first, it might still be hot.” Therese tells Rindy once she’s screwed the top on. Rindy nods, and takes a tentative sip. 

“It’s not too hot.” She says, and proceeds to suck on the sippy cup lip, still looking a little red-cheeked and deflated.

Therese turns to Carol. “You want a mug or—?”

“The jar is fine, thanks, put a little honey in it for me?” 

Therese does, and gives it a quick stir, leaving it within Carol’s reach while she sets aside two little dishes of mixed chocolate chips and blueberries from the fridge. Therese moves to Carol’s other side with her mug in hand, and watches her pick up the pitcher and bring it over the frying pan. 

Much to her surprise, when Carol presses a button on the handle, the contraption dispenses some batter into the frying pan, which sizzles lightly upon contact.

“Wow— I’ve never seen a thing like that.” Therese says with a laugh. 

“It was a gift from Abby, since pancakes are a pretty big staple in this family.” 

“Definitely lessens mess huh?” 

“For sure.” Carol drops some blueberries and chocolate chips into the pancake and puts a little more batter over top. “It’s convenient for other kinds of baking too.” She takes a spatula and flips the pancake, it’s golden with just a little bit of brown at the edges. 

Soon enough, Therese is privy to the knowledge that Carol Aird cannot produce anything but beautiful pancakes. 

 

~**~ 

 

After breakfast Carol takes a few minutes to take some pictures of Rindy’s bruise. Therese and Rindy play together in her room once she’s dressed while Carol takes a few minutes to send the photos to the lawyer with a play by play, as well as her request not to be in any further contact with Harge unless it was through the lawyers. When she returns she proposes an idea to Rindy. 

“A new exhibit opened last week to commemorate the finished renovations at the Biodome, there are a lot of animals that you like there, and an aquarium with a bunch of octopuses and jelly fish.” Carol says, and Rindy clutches her new Pangolin to her chest. “Do you want to see it today?” 

If Rindy had been lacking any of her usual spark since their conversation at breakfast, it surely returns now and Rindy nods emphatically, a big grin spreading over her face. 

“Will Terry come?” She asks, and Carol and Therese exchange glances. 

“I’d love to but I gotta go home.” Therese says. “But maybe we can plan something else soon.” 

“More sleepovers!” Rindy insists. 

“But—” Carol says. “— we will drive Terry home, so she’ll be with us in the car on the way to the Biodome.” 

“Okay!” Rindy places her pangolin on her bed. “When will we go?” 

“In half an hour?” Carol proposes. “I just need to pack a day bag.”

“I don’t have a lot to pack. I’ll be ready.” Therese adds. 

Carol ruffles Rindy’s hair. “Can you play by yourself for a bit, baby? Therese is going to help me with the day bag.”

“Okay.” She agrees and goes over to her toy box and fetches three more animal toys. 

“We won’t be long.” Carol assures and kisses Rindy’s forehead. “We’ll be in my room.” 

Carol takes Therese’s hand, and they leave Rindy to play. She guides Therese back to her room and leaves the door partially ajar before drawing Therese to her, a hand finding her waist. 

“You’re wonderful with her.” Carol says, and Therese smiles, bringing a hand to Carol’s neck. 

“She’s wonderful.” 

Carol kisses her sweetly, and Therese feels her smile, finding it impossible to resist smiling as well. 

“Do you want to spend New Years with us?” Carol asks when she leans away. 

“Do you have anything in mind?” Therese replies. 

Carol cants her head to one side, gaze still on Therese’s lips. “Maybe spend a few days at the Chalet.” 

“I’d like that.” Therese kisses her again, slipping her hand into Carol’s hair, and giving a contented hum. “That’s when Genevieve’s cover is debuting.” 

Carol gives Therese’s side an affectionate squeeze. “Are you worried about that— the media attention?” 

“I figured my website would get more traffic.” She shrugs. “Haven’t really thought about it much. I’ve had other things on my mind.” 

Carol laughs softly, and steps away, heading to the closet where she pulls out a backpack. 

“Day bag for outings.” Carol says. “Need to make sure we’re not missing anything.” 

And so they go through the contents. A change of pants and underwear and socks for Rindy, an extra sweater, wet wipes, a small first aid kit, a bag of on-the-go snacks, a book. Everything is in order. 

“I’ll let her take one toy with her, and probably a blanket for the car.” Carol decides once she’s finished double checking the bag. 

“It’ll probably be the pangolin.” Therese says. 

“The way she’s been cuddling it today— definitely.”

Therese goes into the bathroom and collects her toiletries kit, zipping it up before returning to the main room. She’d already folded up her clothes from the day before and put them in her laundry bag, so she tucks both away into her overnight back. She shoulder the her bag, and takes the day-bag from Carol. Before they step back out into the hall Carol stops to kiss her again. She lingers, lips parted and searching, a promise. Therese smiles, her teeth finding Carol’s bottom lip and sucking at it, making her chuckle. 

“So New Years?” Carol says. 

“Yes.” 

“I’ll text you and we’ll figure out the details.” Carol kisses her again, brief and chaste and goes over to Rindy’s bedroom. “We’re ready.” 

“I can take a toy?” Rindy asks.

“Yes, but it has to stay in the car.” Carol says. “Do you want to take a blanket or will the car seat be enough?” 

“Just pangolin.” She says, emerging into the hall. 

“Let’s get you a sweater first.” Carol ducks into Rindy’s room and returns with a zippered hoodie. Rindy holds the pangolin toy out for Carol and they trade. Rindy puts on the sweater and reaches out for the toy again. 

“I’m ready now.” 

“Let’s try a pee before we go.” Carol suggests, and Therese nods. 

Rindy sighs. “Fine.” She says and trudges over to the washroom, leaving the toy on the shelf just outside.

“We’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.” Carol says, and Therese nods. 

She takes the bags down and puts them on the bench, getting her scarf and jacket on, and then her boots. Rindy bounds down the stairs with Carol close behind and gets her coat off a hook at child-height, and reaches into the sleeve, pulling out a hat. She has to put the jacket down on the bench to tug the hat on, but succeeds without any real difficulty. 

Carol gets her own coat and boots on, and they are soon ready to head out the door. 

“Not gonna put your jacket or boots on?” Therese asks Rindy, already picking up the bags so Carol doesn’t have to carry anything. 

“No, this is a car ride.” She says, and Carol scoops her up, holding Rindy on her hip, who holds her own jacket and boots in her hands.

“You’ll see.” Rindy says.

“I guess so.” Therese replies.

 

~**~ 

 

The drive is calm, and Therese finds herself doing much the same thing she had that first visit. Watching. But she doesn’t watch out the windows, she doesn’t gaze secretly at Carol in her periphery. She lets herself look, and admire, both the beautiful woman beside her and the contemplative girl in the back seat. Therese can see Rindy in the mirror, but she likes turning her head to look at Rindy gazing out the window. 

Her car seat has a thick blanket placed in it, with slits for the straps. The bottom part zips up like a sleeping bag over her feet and legs, and the excess can be tucked like a blanket. She clutches her pangolin toy over the blanket, little fingers absently pressing and rubbing its soft scale-pattern armour. Carol had been right, Rindy is incredibly calm and pensive during the drive. Only speaking a few times during the drive into the city, to ask a question or point out something interesting she saw. 

Therese can see Carol is feeling pensive as well, because she does not react to Therese’s gaze as she had that first Sunday. Rather, she meets those gazes with soft smiles, and reaches across the divide to rub Therese’s thigh when they come to stop lights, and occasionally takes her hand and plays with it lightly when the traffic gets a little thicker the closer they get to Therese’s apartment. 

Part of her starts to feel a bit of dread the closer they get. She existed so easily with Carol, with Carol and Rindy. The idea of returning to her small and cold apartment seems like a bland alternative to the colourful existence with them. Not purely good, but where the bad was not a sea on top of her, but merely a wave trying to knock her unbalanced. 

“We’re going to visit the chalet for New Years, Rindy.” Carol says, glancing at her in the rear view mirror. 

“When I get to stay awake so late to celebrate?” She giggles at the way it rhymes. 

“You can certainly try.” Carol replies. 

“Is Terry coming?” Rindy asks. 

“I am.” Therese says, and turns to look at Rindy grin. “Is that okay?”

“Yes!” Rindy exclaims incredulously. “We’ll go skating right?”

“Definitely, I heard that the town renovated the rink.” Carol agrees.

“Aunt Abby was re _vona_ ting the chalet right?” 

“Re _nova_ ting— yes. She gave me the keys before she left last night, as a Christmas present.”

“She’s so cool.” Rindy says hugging her pangolin more tightly. 

Therese laughs lightly. With a little luck, a few minutes later, Carol finds a parking space two doors down from Therese’s apartment. Therese sighs, unbuckling her seatbelt. She leans across the divide and kisses Carol again, brief but full of assurance and longing and affection. 

“I’ll see you soon.” She says when she pulls away, smiling at the affectionate look on Carol’s face. 

“I’ll call you later?” Carol says, and Therese nods. 

“I’d like that.” 

“I need a hug!” Rindy announces, and Therese grins, pointing at her. 

“I’ll come around, hold on.” 

Therese gets out of the car, and opens the back door, leaning in past the bags and reaching Rindy. She gives her a one arm hug and accepts the little girl’s hug around her neck and kiss to her cheek. 

“I’ll see you soon.” Therese says, and kisses Rindy’s forehead. She grabs her overnight bag, closing the door. Carol opens a window and Therese leans in one last time. “Have fun at the Biodome.” She waves, and steps further onto the sidewalk, she waves again. 

The three storeys she climbs to reach her front door and hollow and echoy, and her door feels heavy when she gets it open. Therese drops her back next to her coat rack, and leans against the door, locking it absently. She glances around the space, unchanged since she’d left. Dim, clean enough, cold. Therese sighs, and brings her bag over to her armoire, routinely putting the laundry in the hamper for later, and putting away the items of clothing she hadn’t used. 

Therese tucks her nose into the collar of her turtleneck, breathing in the scent that is undeniably Carol. She puts the bag away and turns on her space heater, going over the windows to open the curtains and let some more natural light into the space. It doesn’t help all that much. 

It is of an hour that lunch would be appropriate but she doesn’t feel hungry, or rather she feels famished for something that food cannot fulfill. Therese goes to her fridge, finds bacon and eggs and some chopped vegetables and decides to make an omelet. 

The quiet of this apartment had never bothered her. Therese had always liked the hum of the city outside her windows and it had never disturbed her sleep or work. But now, even with the sound of cars outside on the street below, the apartment feels too quiet. Her movements feel too loud and the space feels suffocating. Even when she puts some music on on her phone after she’s finished eating, laying her head on her arms on the island, closing her eyes and just letting herself listen to it does she still feel this creeping malaise. 

The music cuts off. Her phone rings. 

It’s Rick. 

“Hi—” she greets, the relief she’s feeling bleeding into her voice.

“Hey Terry, Happy belated Christmas.” He sounds happy but unsure. 

“Happy belated Christmas.” Therese replies. “How was dinner with the family?” 

“It was busy and loud, you know how the more Russian side of the family gets.” He laughs. 

“I do.” She says soberly. 

“I was wondering if I could stop by— are you home?” He clear his throat. “I— uh, got you a present before… well. And I’d like to give it to you.” 

Therese feels that guilt try to creep up on her. “Oh Rick, you should return it…” 

“It wasn’t expensive, and it was second hand. Just a ‘this would be great for Terry’ kinda thing. I want you to have it.” The insistence is sincere and kind, and Therese finds herself smiling softly.

“Okay.” She says. 

“So you’re home?” 

“Oh— yes. I’ve only been home about half an hour.” Could it really have been so little time? 

“Good timing then, I guess.” 

“Yes, actually.” She can’t disagree. 

“I’m nearby anyway, I’ll be ten minutes. See you soon.”

“Bye.” She hangs up the call. 

 

~**~ 

Rick lounges on Therese’s couch with a mug of coffee in hand, his cheeks are red from the cold and he’s wearing a new wool sweater that she assumes his sister made. It looks nice, she’s clearly improving from the year before. He’d brought with him a modest gift bag, not too flashy, and very true to his character. Therese had chosen a chair a few feet away for him to watch her open the gift. 

Therese takes the tissue paper out carefully, folding it nicely and setting it on the coffee table before putting out a clear plastic crate about the size of a tool box, full of bottles of acrylic paint. All unopened except for three. Therese laughs as she unclasps the lid, taking out a bottle and looking it over. The colours are quite fun, unexpected. And then she finds the date…

“Where on earth did you find this? Are all of these from _nineteen eighty eight_?” She examined the bottle some more, raising a brow at the way the paint has separated. 

Rick shrugs. “I was at the thrift store and I saw them.” 

“They’re great.” She says, picking out another bottle and looking at that same separation in the paint. “Gotta crack ‘em open and see if I can mix them again, they look like they’ve separated pretty bad.” 

“Don’t let me stop you.” Rick says, and Therese pops the bottle back in the crate and brings it over to her work station. 

“Thank you.” Says Therese, putting the crate down and pulling her tarp out to cover the floor. “This is a really sweet gift.” 

“You’re welcome.”

Therese grabs her smock and ties it around her— Carol’s— turtleneck, carefully rolling up her sleeves before getting on her hands and knees and kneeling on the tarp next to the crate. 

“Would you grab me a pitcher of warm water please?” Therese asks, reaching over and opening a cupboard. She pulls out a small storage basket and takes out a cordless drill and tiny bit— a quick test of it tells her it has enough battery. 

Rick doesn’t need to be asked twice, leaving his coffee on the table to get the water for her. 

“How was your Christmas with your friend?” He asks, turning the faucet on. 

“It was nice. Her ex took her daughter on an impromptu trip, but he brought her home early— while we were just about to have dinner of all things.” 

“You cooked?” He brings the pitcher over and places it beside her, taking a seat on a nearby chair. 

“I helped. Carol had a recipe, so I just chopped and mixed where needed.” Therese answers automatically as she fixes the bit to the drill. 

“Carol?” He asks. 

“Mhm, ended up being a girls’ night since her friend joined us, and then with her daughter being dropped off early…” Therese takes a bottle out of the crate and tries to get the lid off, with a crack she manages it and finds that the paint had dried it tight on. “Jeez.” 

“How old is the daughter?”

“Four.” Therese slips the drill bit into the paint bottle, holding it steady, and presses the trigger slowly. In seconds the paint is properly mixed again, and the shape of the bit allows for minimal loss of paint when she pulls it out slowly and dips it in the water, putting the drill on full force to clean it off. 

“Cute age.” Rick says thoughtfully. 

Therese grins. “It really is— Rindy says the funniest things.” She adds a few drops of dawn dish soap from her basket and adds it to the water, and pats the bit dry with a rag before moving on to the next bottle. “I think most of these will be useable.” 

“That’s great, I wasn’t sure.” Rick sips at his coffee. “Sounds like you had a nice time with your friend— I’m glad.” 

“Thank you. I did.” Therese stirs the paint, satisfied with its remixing, and lets the paint drip off before bringing the bit over to the soapy water and letting it go full power to clean it off. 

And thus she repeats the same steps with all the other bottles. Therese wonders about the history of them, how they could have gone unused— possibly hidden away in a basement or an attic— for thirty years before ending up in a thrift store. No one expects paints at a thrift store, they expect clothes, and books, maybe electronics, toys and some furniture. But not paint.

“It’s always fun to watch you work on something.” Rick says, and Therese smiles knowingly. “You’re so diligent, but you look like you’re miles and miles away.” 

“I was thinking about how they ended up at the thrift store.” Therese says, but doesn’t elaborate. Her pitcher of water is murky now, and she’s just finishing off the last few bottles. With a stroke of luck, all of the paints are usable once she’s remixed them. 

Therese takes a moment to clean the bit before drying it and putting it and the drill back in the storage basket. 

“I’ll pour out the water.” Rick says, taking the pitcher and returning to the sink. 

“Thanks.” Therese kneels, putting the basket back in the cupboard before lifting the little crate of paints to put it on a higher shelf. She has to stand on her toes, and even then she can’t quite get it up. “Could you give me a hand?” Therese asks, and Rick jogs over easily getting the crate onto the shelf with his advantageous height. 

“I should get a step stool.” Therese says with a laugh, and tugs at the tie of her smock, which rides up her shirt as she undoes the knot. She shrugs it off, as Rick sits back down, picking up his coffee and bringing it to his lips. 

But he pauses as Therese rolls up the smock and chucks it into the laundry, which she does with the rag as well. 

“Terry what’s on your stomach?” He asks, unsure, almost concerned.

“What?” Therese touches her stomach, the shirt falling over her hand— her cheeks redden. 

She should have paid attention better. 

Therese rubs at her neck, the collar feeling too hot now. 

“Therese.” He never uses her full name. Rick’s expression changes from concern to realization, because in her nervousness she’d gone and made the marks on her neck visible by playing with the collar of the turtleneck. “Are those _hickeys_?” 

Therese doesn’t say anything, taking an inadvertent step back when Rick stands, coming over to her. 

“Rick—”

“Let me see.” He isn’t angry, but he’s definitely hurt. 

“Rick.” Therese levels him with a warning look. He meets it, betrayal swimming in his gaze. 

“Did you cheat on me?” He asks. 

A deep frown knits her brows, anger welling up in her. “What— no! I broke up with you!” 

Rick takes a deep breath. “You’re not _fast_ , Terry! You don’t like sex. It took us months to even try!” 

“I did not cheat on you!” Therese snaps.

“You can’t expect me to believe you dumped me and just went out and picked up some guy at random!”

Therese feels her eyes burn. “It isn’t your business. _I didn’t cheat on you_ , Rick. I would not.”

“Then what?” He asks, genuinely and disbelievingly. “It hasn’t even been a week. Help me understand.” 

“It isn’t— it isn’t your business!” Therese pleads. 

“How isn’t it my business, Terry? We were together for two years! Don’t I deserve an explanation?” He gestures at her neck. “You never liked being touched, let alone sex. If you weren’t seeing someone else to get to that point then what else am I supposed to—”

“I’m a lesbian!” She shouts, and stops him dead. “I’m a lesbian— I didn’t know before, I ju— _I just figured it out_ , okay? I didn’t cheat on you. I… I just figured it out.” Just fell in love. 

“What?” Rick says in disbelief, confusion written on his face. 

Therese merely nods. 

Rick turns away, picking up his mug of coffee and turning his back to her. He walks over to the sink and empties the mug, leaving it there, and turning toward the door where his coat waits on the rack. 

“Rick.” Therese says helplessly, but he holds up a hand. 

“Don’t.” He says, and gets his boots on, not bothering to zip them before grabbing his jacket and opening the door. He steps into the hall and shuts the door heavily, shaking the walls. 

It takes her a few moments to move from her spot, and when she does she’s on autopilot, going over to the door and locking it again. Therese goes over to the sink, washing out the mug and putting it in the dish rack when she’s done. Just when she thinks she won’t cry a shuddering breath courses through her and she lets out a small sob, screwing her eyes shut and fighting the anger and frustration and fear and guilt that’s welled up in her. 

Her phone starts ringing. 

Therese wipes her cheeks on her arm, and glances at the caller ID. It’s Danny. With her phone in hand she slides down to the floor and sits with her back up against a cupboard and her knees drawn to her chest. 

“Hi Danny.” She answers, trying to sound casual. 

“Terry, hi— are you okay?” 

Clearly she failed. 

“Fine… fine.” Therese takes a deep breath.

“Are you crying?” 

Therese can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. Sorry. Rick came over and we… we had an argument.” 

“Are you okay?” Danny asks again.

“I’m fine, I— I realized something over Christmas, and I don’t think he liked hearing it.” 

“Is it about your friend, the one you talked about at the art store?” 

“Carol. Yeah.” Therese sighs. “I’m gay, Danny. I was with her.” 

She hears Danny chuckling on the other end of the line. 

“What?” She asks. 

“I didn’t wanna make any assumptions, Terry— but you looked pretty love struck when you were talking about her.” 

Therese feels her cheeks burn. “I thought I was doing pretty well there.” She says mirthfully. 

“So Rick figured it out?” Danny asks. 

“He saw… my hickeys.” 

“Damn Therese!” Danny almost cheers, making Therese genuinely laugh. “Getting it!” 

“I’m not sure his suspicion of infidelity is better than reality.” Therese says. “But the ‘I’m a lesbian sorry I didn’t figure that out during our two year relationship’ didn’t really help.” 

“That’s a tough one.” Danny says sympathetically. “How’d he take it?” 

“He left. He just left.” 

“Just left? Stormed out?” 

“No… well sort of?” Therese sighs. “He was upset.” 

“Enough about Rick.” Danny says. “I called for a reason.” 

Therese smiles. “Do tell— and happy belated Christmas.” 

“Happy belated Christmas!” He says jollily. “I’d like to do a shoot with you.” 

“Okay, go on.” 

“I’d like to photograph you while you paint.” Danny explains. “You looked so thoughtful just picking out supplies, I’d really like to capture your work process. Does that sound okay?” 

“Yeah it does.” 

“You got a day that works?” He asks. 

“How about Saturday?— I can set up some lights, my apartment is kind of dark.” 

“Okay Saturday, how’s one sound?” 

“That sounds great.” 

He pauses for a few seconds. “Alright, one on Saturday.— I’m happy for you, Terry.” 

“Thanks Danny.” 

“See you Saturday.” He says. 

“See you.” 

He hangs up. 

 

~**~

 

Therese sits at her laptop going through orders on her website, marking works as sold, jotting down what she would need to pack up and bring to the post office soon. She’d occupied herself with the art after hanging up with Danny, and writing the date down in her phone calendar, it was what soothed her the most, immersing herself in the thing she she could put all her thoughts and emotions into without have to find to vocabulary to explain it all. 

She had planned paintings; written notes and set aside collections of three or four colours that she would use in the next two days. One painting had more than four; the pink she had bought, the lipstick shade, with a navy blue and reddish purple, and golden yellow… and a touch of clear sparkling paint as well. 

Therese could picture it already, eager to set up her work space the next day for two full days of painting. She hadn’t had time for more than a few hours at a time since November because of the photography gig— Shaun would probably be sending along an email soon with the schedule, but probably not until after the new year. It felt good to be busy, but the kind of busy that was bringing her somewhere. And that somewhere could only grow once the cover and photoshoot were published, and the exposé on the AIRD website. 

Her phone rings. 

Therese glances at the screen, smiling.

“Hi Carol.” She greets. 

“Therese.” Carol’s voice is warm and Therese closes her eyes, imagining herself enveloped in a blanket of that warmth. 

“How was the Biodome?” Therese asks. 

“Lovely.” Carol says with a light laugh. “Rindy adored the otters. I think the aquarium section lifted her spirits after this morning.” 

“She enjoyed herself?” 

“Very much so. You know how she said she felt rushed at Disney World?” 

Therese finds herself nodding. “Yes.” 

“I just let her take all the time she wanted. To look and talk to me about what she was seeing…” She can hear Carol breathe. “Help her read the information plaques next to the tanks… and she would just move on when she was ready.” 

“I bed she appreciated that.” 

“I think so. I got her a star fish plushie from the gift shop.” 

Therese laughs. “What colour?” 

“A lovely blue, with a orangey cream belly.” 

“Nice.” 

“What did you do with the rest of your day?” 

Therese is quiet for a moment, wondering if it would be fair to tell her about Rick. 

“Therese?” 

“I’m here.” She takes a breath and sighs. “Rick stopped by to give me a gift he’d already gotten me… before I broke it off.” 

“What was it?” Carol asks, genuinely interested. 

“Thirty year old acrylic paints.” Therese smiles. “They had separated but I remixed all of them and they’re usable.” 

“That’s thoughtful.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Therese’s more though isn’t there?” Carol says encouragingly.

“He saw my hickeys.” Therese tells her. “He was angry about it.” 

“Therese he didn’t hu—”

“We just argued, nothing more.” Therese assures quickly. “I feel sorry, you know? He doesn’t understand… I don’t— I don’t even understand it myself. I never felt for him what I feel for you… I never loved him like that.” 

“I know.” 

“There was some good stuff though.” Therese adds. “My friend Danny is going to photograph me while I paint. On Saturday.” 

“That sounds lovely.” 

“I’m looking forward it.” 

“For New Years—” Carol begins. “Do you want to stay over the twenty-ninth, and take the drive on the thirtieth to get settled?” 

“Yes, I’d like that.” 

“So Sunday?” Carol laughs. Another Sunday. 

“Sunday.” Therese says, like a promise. 

“I’ll text you more details.” Carol says. 

“Alright.” 

“Can I call you tomorrow?” She asks, almost shyly. 

“Please.” Therese replies. 

“Okay. Have a good night, Therese.” Carol says, as if she merely wanted to say her name again. 

“Goodnight Carol.” 

All she wanted was to say her name again as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably gonna be the last timely update until I'm done my classes for the term!  
> I have been writing this fic for NaNoWriMo and am about 3k away from completing it. Which I'm determined to do so I can focus on starting my finals. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, your continued comments are extremely validating!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very heavy chapter. I am providing a content warning for _unlawful surveillance_ and _revenge porn_.   
>  I hope you enjoy!

On Friday Therese fills her apartment with music and goes about setting up the few photography lights she owns for Danny. Canvases and paper laid out together, one ready to be painted right away, while the others wait a few feet away, just in case she spilled anything. 

Therese paints, drawing the colours over the canvas and using her droppers to add water and spread the paint in its wild and unpredictable directions. That’s what she liked about this technique, the balance of control and lack of it. Something about the work would always surprise her. 

And in the hours of Friday, she begins three paintings, including the one in homage of Carol. 

She starts with cream, spreading it over the expanse of the canvas, before adding the first touches of golden yellow in loopy patterns that remind her of Carol’s curls, and then the pink which she blots on with a makeup sponge that she digs out of her supply in the washroom, a bag full of which four won’t be terribly missed. It becomes something harmonious, when she sprays the canvas with water and watches it spread on its own accord. Therese only guides it minimally, until she’s satisfied and lets it rest. 

The last is more somber, in shades of blues and greys, a dash of sparkling silver, of brow— she lets the colours bleed a lot more here, and doesn’t let it dry before thoroughly coating one of the sponges she’d bought in red and smacking it down just off center of the canvas, splashing the paint outward like an explosion, the result of which she appreciates in both colour and texture. She lets it dry after that. 

Her Saturday morning is similar, starting two more paintings— mere curiosities of colour, and letting them sit aside while she makes sure the space is navigable for Danny when he arrives. She eats lunch, and makes sure there’s something in the fridge for Danny if he wants it. 

On a whim she does some stretches, half hearted yoga to keep herself loose, just to pass the time until Danny arrived since she wanted to provide him with enough material to capture. She reties the laces of her paint stained shoes, and tucks the pants of her denim overalls into her socks. She hadn’t bothered to hide her neck today, merely having taken the time that morning after her shower to moisturize and do her hair in two French braids down the back of her head. 

She hadn’t put makeup on, but she’d washed her face with a cleanser and been satisfied with the state of her face. No blemishes, no bags under her eyes. She looked alert and healthy, and despite putting a little effort into her appearance today, it was still her natural self. Not inauthentic. 

Therese buzzes Danny in a twelve fifty seven. 

“Wow you’ve been busy!” He says as he gets his boots and coat and hat off. 

“Had a lot of creative energy.” Therese replies. 

“You look nice.” He adds, and she laughs. 

“I thought a different hair style would be fun.” She shrugs. “You not worried about getting paint on your clothes?” 

“No, just gotta avoid the camera.” 

“I can do that. Just try to keep your hands off the floor.” Therese advises. 

It takes her about ten minutes to lose the edge of performance and really relax. Danny has the right personality for photographer, much like hers. He knows when to talk to her, to make her laugh, and he knows when to stay quiet, to let her get lost in her emotions and in the work. 

The clicks of her his shutter become part of the background noise, and his movements around her work space are no bother once Therese finds herself grounded once again in the paintings she has to finish. 

On the first one, Therese adds more paint to enhance the saturation in some sections, until she is satisfied with the richness and shapes, and textures.

She noticed that when she returns to Carol’s painting that Danny takes more pictures, and moves around the space more liberally. Therese cuts off a small piece of sponge, and mixes some red and purple together on a paper plate. Then she dabs the sponge into it and onto her canvass. She nods to herself, adding the splotches of colour with no particular shape, here and there until she is satisfied. She uses the dropper to bleed the colour, not much and decides to add more a mixture of red and brown as an after thought.

“Hickeys.” Danny says, and takes a photo of her right when she looks at him with a mirthful expression on her face. 

“You planned that.” She accuses lightly. 

Danny chuckles. “You bet I did.” He snaps another one when she breaks into a grin, the space between laughter. 

Therese ends up adding more navy to the painting, mixing it with the teal to make it a touch greener. She goes over the golden yellow again, but this time with the clear sparkle-filled paint mixed in, applied with a dry brush in a mix of long strokes and. 

“She did a number on you.” Danny teases. 

“I did the same to her.” She says candidly, he snaps a photo. Therese makes a face. “What did you see there?” 

“Pride,” Danny answers, snapping another photo. “Openness, contentment…” 

“You’re making that up.” She says, reaching for a large dry brush which she dips into white paint. “Might want to step back, I’m not sure if this will get on you.” 

“I’m not making it up.” He steps around her, guessing her intentions, and makes his decision accordingly. 

Therese goes about flicking the paint onto the canvas, sending little drops of white across the coloured expanse of it. Danny snaps some photos. Once she is satisfied, Therese takes another dropper and mixes a small dish of water with the silver and sparkly paints, she carefully applies one or two drops of this onto the white spots, it bleeds together and leaves the edges looking almost fluffy. 

“I like that.” Danny says softly, as if speaking any louder would break the moment. “Is it snow?” 

“Yes.” Therese sits back, kneeling. Danny takes a photo. “I think that was the moment of no return.” She admits. “Seeing her face light up with this beautiful joy when she saw the snow falling. Last Sunday.” 

Therese closes her eyes, truly overwhelmed by that statement. _Last Sunday_. Danny takes a staccato of photos then, and she opens her eyes to look at him. He’s smiling at her. 

“You know I should thank you, Terry.” He says, still peering through his camera.

“Why’s that?” He takes another. And again when she laughs. 

“Because this feels like trust.” The words are plain, but they hit her quite hard. He takes another photo.

“Yeah. It is.” Therese agrees. “I do trust you Danny.” 

“So that’s why I’m saying thank you.” He explains, changing a setting on his camera and taking the screen out and angling it differently. “I admire you, your art is really special, and I’m glad already that you agreed to let me be here— but you talk to me, and I appreciate that.” 

“You listen well.” Says Therese, feeling emotion catch in her throat. “You don’t just wait for your turn.” 

“If I didn’t listen I wouldn’t learn anything.” He says, and the shutter clicks again. 

She glances down at her painting, looking it over and feeling like there is nothing left to add to it. 

The shutter clicks again. 

“You’re the first person I talked about any of this.” Therese says. “Before I even figured any of this shit out. Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re so excited to be an uncle and you’re so supportive of your sister and her wife, so I never doubted that you wouldn’t get it…” Her eyes begin to tear up. “I don’t have any one else to talk to about this. So it means a lot.” 

“You want a hug?” He asks, and she breaks into laugher, nodding, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand when a tear tracks down her face. Danny takes another photo, and puts the camera down. 

Therese carefully craws over to him and they hug. Kneeling together on the paint stained tarp. Danny rubs her back, giving her a reassuring squeeze. 

“You know what the most ridiculous part is?” Therese asks. 

“What?” Danny asks, letting her out of the hug. Therese sits cross legged now. 

“I never told you her name.” 

“I didn’t ask.” Danny shrugs. 

“Carol Aird.” Therese says fondly.

Danny almost gapes, catches himself in time. “AIRD Label, Carol Aird? Really?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Wow.” He says thoughtfully. “Are you worried?”

“About media attention?” She asks, Danny nods. “I don’t know. I… We have to talk about that I guess. What we are.” 

“What do you want?” 

“Her. And everything that comes with that.” She smooths her hand over her pant leg. 

“Nasty ex included?” 

Therese sighs, nodding. “Even that. She told him she doesn’t want to hear from him unless it’s between their lawyers.” 

“That’s an improvement from last time.”

“Yes. His trip with Rindy didn’t go very well. He’s a try-hard, doesn’t know how to listen to her or parent her.”

“Sounds like a stand up guy.” Danny says sarcastically. Therese laughs. 

“He didn’t make a scene when he brought Rindy home early, thankfully.” 

“Also an improvement.” 

They sit together, in a thoughtful silence for a few moments. 

Danny clears his throat. “As long as you’re safe, Therese. That’s all that matters.” 

“I think I am.” She says with a nod. “I’m safe.” 

 

~**~ 

 

After Danny leaves Therese has to tidy her living space to be able to lower her murphy bed and navigate the space while her paintings dry. She manages this with some careful stepping and losing half her counter and island space while she’s at it. With nothing else to do she decides that today is as good as any to get her laundry done. 

With a foldable shopping cart, Therese loads her bag of clothes and packs a small bag with her laptop and headphones and heads to the laudromat down the street. She picks up a sandwich and a tea at the corner store nearby and finds a vacant washer dryer pair. She pulls up a folding chair and loads her clothes into it, dispensing her own soap and setting it all to a normal cycle. 

She gets more work done, answering emails, preparing draft pages for the art she’d made, and waiting for her tea to cool off. About half an hour after she arrives at the laundromat, which had been empty until now, a man walks in with his own bag of laundry. Therese doesn’t pay him much attention. 

He seems to struggle with the machine, as if he’s unfamiliar with it, but figures it out quickly enough and takes a seat near his machine as well. 

Therese is finally able to drink her tea, which she does while going through some of the photos she’d due to upload to her portfolio and photography instagram. She takes a break from that to load the wet clothes into the dryer, setting it to warm and setting a timer for an hour. 

The work is simple but it takes up time, and she likes feeling like she’s getting stuff done. 

Another woman enters the laudromat and sets up a few machines away from Therese. 

Therese eats her sandwich around 5:45, and finishes her work with ten minutes to go on the dryer. So she packs up her things and merely waits, watching outside the window at the pedestrians and cars outside. 

The snow hadn’t stuck much to the pavement, and snow clearing had already taken place anyway. The streets were largely dry since the snow now, and glitter a little from the salt and sand that had been put down to prevent ice build up. She watches the sky turn purple to deep blue as the sun sets behind a building to her left where she can’t see it.

Finally the dryer finishes and she checks her clothes. Satisfied she drops them all into her little cart. She makes sure she has everything and takes her leave, heading back into the cool evening to make the short walk back to her apartment. She’s barely a few steps from the front door of the building when her phone goes off. 

It’s Rick. 

Part of her, a guilty part of her, wants to ignore the call. She doesn’t want to talk to him. But she does it anyway.

“Hello—”

“Have you see the news?” Rick asks hurriedly. “You need to lo—”

His call gets interrupted by another incoming call. It’s Danny. 

“Sorry I have another call—” She says, accepting Danny’s.

“Danny?” Therese answers. 

“Terry I think you need to call Carol, someone po—”

His call gets interrupted as well. Another incoming call, this time from an unknown number. She declines it. She declines them all. Staring at her phone with an unparalleled sense of dread. 

A text from Danny previews on her screen. 

DANNY: terry I just found this…  
DANNY: [ hyperlink ] this is really bad you need to…

She opens the texts and reads them, unable to look at the link as she hurries into her building, taking the stairs two at a time while the cart smacks against the steps behind her. 

Therese tries calling Carol, drops her keys while she tries to unlock her door. 

It rings. And rings. And rings. And goes to voicemail. 

She opens the apartment door, shutting it behind her and shoving her cart aside. Another text comes in from Danny.

DANNY: please update me when you can

On what? On what? She swipes through her screen with a cold thumb, and it takes three tries before she’s able to access the link Danny had sent her. 

**AIRD FASHION DIRECTOR LESBIAN SEX TAPE LEAKED**

A strangled sound leaves Therese’s throat and she drops to her knees her phone clattering to the floor. She gets only a glimpse of a somewhat grainy, black and white preview of Carol’s living room. With Therese in Carol’s lap and her mouth on her breast. Her breath comes in too quickly, and her throat feels closed. She can’t swallow, her nose is already drippy from the cold…

Therese gags, and chokes, getting caught in a coughing fit, as she staggers to her feet and goes over to the kitchenette. She grabs a few sheaths of papertowel and blows her nose, struggling to breathe, bracing herself against the counter. Choked sobs leave her chest and Therese has to lean over as a bout of dizziness threatens to put her on the floor again. 

She struggles out of her coat and sweatshirt, feeling too shot, too smothered, and throws them over a chair by her island. Therese ends up on the floor anyway, now only in her leggings and bralette crawling over to her phone, the screen having gone dark. She opens it with shaking hands, and clutches at her chest desperately dragging in breaths, and exhaling sobs. 

Therese closes out of the video, she tries calling Carol again.

It rings. And rings. And rings. And it goes to voicemail. 

An automated female voice reaches her ears. “This voicemail box if full and cannot accept any messages at this time, goodbye.” She gets a dial tone. 

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.” Therese slams her hand against the floor, still struggling to breathe. She drags her coat from the chair and reaches into it’s large pocket for her vaporizer, the time it takes to reach full heat feels like eons. Therese forces herself to take in a deep breath, forces herself to breathe out something close to evenly before she takes a pull. 

She sits there, heart still hammering, body claimed by assaults of sobs and hyperventilation no matter how hard she tries to breathe, but she manages to get herself to a calm enough state. A calm enough state to pull the medicated vape fluid into her lungs, enough to pack away the panic and the nausea and the awful ache in her stomach. Enough to stand and find a new sweatshirt to wear. 

Therese picks up her phone off the floor, placing it on the island as she shrugs her coat back on. She blows her nose again, taking another pull from the vaporizer, standing by her door still and with her breathing in check.

She calls an Uber. It would be expensive. She doesn’t care. 

She needs to get to Carol’s.

 

~**~ 

 

She tells the Uber driver to pull over before getting to the drive way, there are half a dozen cars there already from what Therese can count, and two of them are police cars with their lights on. 

Therese manages to thank the driver before closing the door, and walks toward the house with determination in her step. A police officer leans against the hood of the car writing something in a notebook. Before she gets half way to the officer another car pulls up and someone gets out. Therese isn’t paying attention until she hears familiar bootsteps and turns around in time to see Harge stalking toward her. 

“You need to leave!” He barks, and Therese hurries her pace, closing the distance to the officer.

“You are the last person Carol wants to see!” Therese shouts, voice already raw. “How dare you show up here again, you vile man.” 

“Ma’am?” The officer asks, standing and blocking the way to the front door with his body. 

“I need to get inside.” Therese says frankly.

“I need to see my daughter!” Harge barks. “I won’t have women involved in a sex scandal around a four year old child!” 

“She’s her mother!” Therese snaps, turning on Harge. “Do you know how fucking _convenient_ this is for you?! This must be a goddamn extended Christmas for you, you fucking homophobe!”

“Ma’am, you need to calm down.” The officer says. “I can’t let you inside.”

“You think I like the public knowing about my ex wife’s sexual ventures? This tape is a fucking embarrassment?” Harge hollers back.

“You’re _embarrassed_?” Therese says, raising her voice in her anger. “How self-absorbed can you get! This is a fucking sex crime!” She turns to the officer. “I know for a fact that Carol Aird does not want this man anywhere near her.” 

“I am Carol Aird’s ex-husband.” Harge says, ignoring Therese, tone a false calm. “My daughter is inside, I cannot have her here after that video was released, I want to speak to Carol and take Rindy with me while this is sorted out. It isn’t safe—” 

“Safe!” Therese exclaims. “You think you know a goddamn thing about safe?!” She stalks forward not caring anymore about Harge’s clear size advantage on her. “Rindy was fucking miserable with you!” 

The officer grabs her before she can strike. And she would have, she would have clocked him in his jaw. 

“Let me go!” Therese shouts, struggling against the officer. 

“Ma’am you need to calm down or I will arrest you.” He says. 

Harge opens his house. “Officer if I could go inside—”

“Therese?!” It’s Abby, from the open doorway of the house.

“Abby!” Therese calls, and the older woman rushes out to the officer. 

“Officer please let her go, I need her to come with me.” Abby says, immediately glaring at Harge who has stepped closer to the officer. “Mister Foster can go. He will not be allowed inside.”

The officer lets Therese go, and Abby wraps an arm around her shoulder, ushering her toward the house. 

“I will not let my daughter stay with some fucking sexual deviants!” Harge shouts, and the last thing Therese hears is the officer asking him to calm down. 

As soon as they are standing in the front entrance Abby hugs Therese tightly. Therese hardly reacts, but relaxes considerably feeling tears welling up in her eyes again. 

“I almost punched him.” Therese says, voice raw. 

“I saw. I wish that officer had been slower.” Abby squeezes her arm. “Are you okay?” 

Thick tears drip down Therese’s cheeks and she shakes her head. “No.” 

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Abby reaches up and strokes her hair. “How much was the Uber?” 

“Sixty— where is Carol?” Therese’s lip quivers. 

“She’s outside on the back porch, giving a statement. They’ll want to talk to you too.” Abby says gently, and Therese nods. 

“Where’s Rindy?” She whispers. 

“She’s playing in her room, Florence is with her.” Abby assures, guiding Therese through the living room where Therese can see two technicians in navy jumpsuits scanning over the furniture. 

“What are they doing?” Therese asks, and Abby holds her as if she’s unsure if Therese’s will stay upright. 

“Scanning for cameras.” Abby answers soberly, and a sob catches in Therese’s throat. “It’s gonna be okay.” Abby soothes as best she can.

Abby brings Therese to the kitchen where the back door is open and another uniformed officer stands next to a man in a long coat and a suit. Only until she steps outside again does she see Carol, looking about as distraught and exhausted as she does. She has her own vaporizer in her hand, taking a pull while the man in the suit writes something down. 

“Carol, Honey.” Abby says, and Carol looks over and gasps loudly. 

“Oh—” She gets up and hugs Therese. So tightly, so tightly it feels like she’ll be crushed, but she doesn’t care she doesn’t care. Therese just lets the sobs take her again, and cries into Carol’s shoulder, freed to breathe Carol in and desperate to drown in her touch. 

When Carol lets her go, her left hand finds Therese’s neck, slipping her fingers into her hair and cradling her head, still holding her close. Abby is no longer at the door, having gone back inside. For the first time Therese makes eye contact with the man in the suit. He looks at them with a sympathetic expression, and Therese closes her eyes, nuzzling her cheek against Carol’s.

“Your voicemail box is full.” Therese finally says, weakly.

“I’m so sorry, Therese, I’m so sorry.” Murmurs Carol. 

Carol guides them over to the padded bench where Carol had been sitting. Carol offers her the vaporizer pen, and Therese takes a pull, handing it back to Carol, who takes one herself. 

“You must be Therese Belivet.” The man in the suit pronounces it _Theresa_. 

“ _Terez_.” She corrects flatly, comforted by Carol’s hand still in her hair. 

“Therese.” He corrects himself. “I’m Detective Jureau. May I ask you a few questions?”

“Yes.”

“How long ago did you learn about the video?” 

She closes her eyes, feeling utterly sick, Carol massages the back of her head.

“At about six.” Therese says. “I got an onslaught of calls after I left the laundromat… three different numbers… and then my friend texted me a link he’d found. I’d just gotten to my apartment which is when I saw the… video preview.” 

“So you haven’t watched it?” Jureau asks. 

“No.” 

“I have to advise you to keep it that way.” 

Therese swallows, taking a deep breath. “That won’t be a problem, I don’t want to see it.” 

“Do you have any enemies, Mis Belivet?” Jureau asks. 

“No one besides Carol’s ex husband, who likes to accuse me of child molestation. But we only met last week.”

Jureau nods. “Would your ex husband plan such a thing, Mis Aird?” 

“I don’t know what he’s capable of anymore.” Carol replies. 

“He’s outside, by the way.” Therese adds. “Had words with him before Abby saved me from getting arrested for nearly clocking him.” 

“Therese—” Carol says worriedly. “He’s outside?” 

“Officer’s body cam might have caught the conversation.” Therese says, too exhausted to put much emotion behind her words.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see if he’s still there.” Jureau nods at them and goes inside. 

Once he’s gone, Carol takes Therese by the chin and kisses her, and despite her exhaustion, it is enough to enliven her and Therese kisses her back. It full of grief and apology, and need and anxiety. But it is a good kiss. 

“You must hate me.” Carol whispers. 

“That’s impossible.” Therese says with conviction.

“I have enough for both of us.” Carol says. 

“Stop.” Therese says, sitting up and cradling Carol’s cheek, making her look her in the eye. “There’s no room for that. I already feel sick, like I’ve been cut open still breathing— you’re _not allowed_ to hate yourself. I won’t let you.” 

Carol bows her head, and Therese merely leans hers on Carol’s shoulder. 

“I was selfish.” Carol murmurs.

Therese doesn’t look up. “How?” 

“I let this happen so fast— I opened you up to this _dissection_ — I exposed you to my vile husband… I was selfish, I was lonely and you looked at me so kindly, and I wanted to keep that so badly…” 

Therese looks up again, and takes Carol’s face between her hands. 

“You are not selfish.” She says. “I took what you offered me without any reservations. I gave myself to you because I wanted to. I’m not going anywhere Carol.” 

Carol nods, drawing Therese in to hug her again, Therese wraps her arms around Carol as well.

“Thank you.” Carol breathes. “I don’t deserve that.” 

“You do.” Therese argues. “You deserve so much.” 

 

~**~ 

 

Carol’s lawyer arrived twenty minutes after Therese, and was filled in more thoroughly than what could have been conveyed over the phone. Therese was not introduced, the unraveling of the evening going too quickly for formalities. Abby goes upstairs to play with Rindy while Florence is brought downstairs to the dining room. The detective invites Carol and Therese into the dining room as well. The technicians had finished their sweep of the living room, hallway, kitchen, and office space, and presented the group of them with the results of the the sweep.

Two cameras in the kitchen, three in the living room, and one in the hallway. And they weren’t done yet. 

“There are no more surveillance devices on this floor.” 

“Will you check the basement as well?” Carol asks. Therese stares at the steam lifting off the surface of her tea, they’d made some just before they’d come to sit down. Ginger lemon and honey, Rindy’s favourite. It actually has helped curb that vague nausea Therese has been feeling since she saw the video preview. 

“Yes ma’am we’ll have someone sweep down there as well. We will need to sweet upstairs now. Can you bring your daughter down here?” 

“I don’t want her knowing why you’re in my house.” Carol says. “I don’t want her hearing about the video.”

“All our personnel have been notified to keep discussion to a minimum.” 

“Alright. I’ll get her.” Carol starts to stand, Therese puts a hand over hers. 

“Let me.” She says, and Carol merely nods. 

Therese leaves the dining room, heading for the stairs. She climbs them slowly, feeling like every step sends a reverberating ache throughout her entire body. Ache, Ache, _Ache_. When Therese reaches the top she closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. 

She heads down the hall and peaks into Rindy’s room. Abby is sitting on one of the child-sized chairs, making a funny voice as she makes Rindy’s corduroy turtle amble across the carpet. Rindy is giggling and has her pangolin on its back, rocking back and forth with laughter. 

“Hey Rindy.” Therese says, and she looks up.

“Terry! I thought you weren’t coming back til New Years!” Rindy gets up and runs over, hugging Therese at the hip. She ruffles Rindy’s hair. She’s already in her pajamas. 

“I had to come back a little early. Something happened and I needed to see your mom.” 

“Is that why there’s so many people here?” 

“Yeah. Mumma wants you to come downstairs for a bit, some of the people need to take a look around.” 

Rindy frowns. “They won’t messy my room, will they?” She asks. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Let’s go, kiddo.” Abby stands, and places the turtle on Rindy’s bed, holding out her hand. Rindy takes Abby’s hand and they head to the stairs with Therese in tow, all descending together. At the landing, the technicians wait, once they pass the technicians head up the stairs with big black kits. Their footsteps thump all the way up the stairs. 

Rindy goes to Carol as soon as she spots her, hugging her around the middle where she sits. 

“Baby, would you be okay playing with Aunt Abby some more in the living room?” Carol asks, stroking her hand over Rindy’s hair. “I need to talk to these men some more, and it’s adult conversations.” 

“Okay. I have a book on the vanilla chair right?” She asks, and Carol nods. 

“Aunt Abby, we can read the book til Mumma’s done.” Rindy says, and Therese wonders how much her amenability is due to her disposition or if her little mind has perceived the seriousness of the situation.

Once they’re gone, Therese sits back down, Carol had pulled the chair closer to her. She takes Therese’s hand and holds it on her lap. 

“I forgot to introduce, Fred Haynes, my lawyer.” Carol says, motioning to the man. He seems to have been caught at home, he’d thrown on a business jacket over a long sleeve shirt and sweatpants that could almost pass as trousers. He has his laptop open, and gives Therese a nod. 

“Unfortunate that we should meet under these circumstances, Mis Belivet.” 

“Yes.” Therese agrees. 

Jureau clears his throat, continuing where he had left off while Therese was out of the room. 

“Mis Laurier besides yourself and the occupants of the house, has there been anyone in the house in the last few weeks that is out of the ordinary?” 

Therese’s attention is drawn to Florence, to seems almost as exhausted as Carol. 

“No, besides Mis Belivet.” 

“The elephant.” Therese blurts out.

“ _Shit_.” Carol says under her breath. 

Florence gasps. “That completely slipped my mind.” 

“What was that, Mis Belivet?” Jureau asks. 

“Mister Foster's father had an employee in New York on business. Rindy was with Mister Foster on holiday, and needed her toy elephant. The employee came to the house to get it. No one was here. Carol was visiting my apartment in the city.”

“When was this?” 

“Christmas Eve Day.” Carol replies. “I told Hargess the employee could get the key from Florence.”

“A man did come to get the key.” Florence agrees. “I texted Carol to confirm and he returned very promptly.” 

Jureau continues to write in his notebook. “Did you get a name?” 

“Tucker I think.” Florence wrings her hands in her lap. “His first name… I can’t remember, I think it also started with T … Tim, Tony, Todd, Ty?”

“It’s alright ma’am, we’ll be able to follow up with Mister Foster.” 

“Is he still here?” Carol asks. 

“No.” Fred replies. “I told him if he was concerned for Rindy he needed to speak to his lawyer and file the appropriate paperwork— he doesn’t have the grounds to take her from you because of this. Not while his involvement is still in question.” 

“You think that’s possible?” Florence asks. 

“He said the tape is an embarrassment.” Therese says. “He’s worried about his reputation when we— we’ve been— our— we’ve had our privacy violated!” Therese’s shoulders shake and she tries to fight back another onslaught of sobs. 

“We’re doing everything we can to take down any reposts of the video.” Jureau assures, poorly.

“Reposts?” Therese squeaks, tears dripping down her cheeks. Carol wraps her arm around Therese’s shoulder. 

“Our cyber teams are working as we speak.” 

Carol places her other hand on the table, taking a deep breath. “Could… the person who made this tape… have more footage?”

“It’s possible, but we believe the perpetrator chose the specific segments in the video for a reason.”

Therese stands abruptly. “I need some air.” She blurts out, and rushes for the back door. It slams behind her. Therese misses the bench and ends up on the cold floor of the back porch, overtaken by heaving sobs— for a few horrible suffocating seconds she thinks she’s going to pass out or throw up and another strangled sob leaves her throat. 

_For a reason._ Someone chose to do this. Someone chose to put that intimacy on display, to steal the beauty and trust of that exchange— someone chose to violate them, to parade their bodies and their sexuality to the public. For what purpose, what malicious hole does this fill in their heart?

Carol draws Therese against her chest, kneeling next to her on the porch floor. She rubs her back, Therese clings to her. Therese had not heard her come outside. 

“They took it— they took it from us!” Therese sobs. “How can I ever get that back?” 

Carol kisses her forehead and her eyes and her cheeks. 

“I’ve never wanted something so much…” Therese says weakly, breathing still shaky, she wipes at her nose and cheeks with her sleeve. “How could they make that ugly?”

“It’s not ugly.” Carol says, and Therese can tell just by hearing her that’s she’s crying as well. “You gave me something so beautiful.” It’s a promise, and somehow it brings more tears to her eyes. “Nothing can change that.”

“I feel so angry.” Therese says. “It’s like rocks in my stomach.” Rocks and mold and rot that she could not clean away unless she bathed herself from the inside out with steel wool and bleach.

“I know.” Carol admits. “I feel it too.” 

Therese reaches up, shifting her position, and guiding her face down to hers. 

It’s a kiss that seeks comfort and reassurance, where hands grip against the other near painfully but with no mind paid, because it isn’t pain, it’s a reminder. 

It’s a reminder that tastes like salt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up writing most of this chapter to finish NaNoWriMo so you're all getting this last installment as a bit of a surprise. I decided to finish it before diving into preparation for my final essays. Thank you to everyone for your comments, I truly love hearing your thoughts about what stood out to you in my work.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience and your messages on tumblr! I am thrilled that you enjoy this work enough to ask about it. 
> 
> This fanfic is also sort of acting as a first draft of an original novel, and thus the biggest mess it'll ever be. It will be largely unedited besides quick read-overs for typos. I hope this won't impede your reading!

The house feels incredibly quiet once everyone has left. 

Rindy had fallen asleep before the technicians had finished their sweep, and Abby had stayed with her in the living room until they were given the all clear. Even with the assurances that there were no more cameras in the house, the idea that there had been two cameras in Carol’s bedroom, and one in the en-suite brought the nausea back into Therese’s belly full swing— worse still when they found a final camera in Rindy’s bedroom. 

But they were certain no other surveillance devices remained.

Therese wasn’t sure if that made her feel any better. 

Abby had put Rindy to bed while the Detective and Lawyer went over some final details, far more delicately after Carol and Therese had spent the better part of fifteen minutes outside together until Therese had felt calm enough to go back inside— as well as cold enough not to want to stay out there any longer. 

Carol had been asked to prepare a statement acknowledging the video, without the expectation that she would have it ready that night. Therese didn’t quite understand what the lawyer meant, but Carol seemed to so she didn’t ask any questions. Florence gave a description of the man who’d come for the key, and once that was done every foreign body left Carol’s house until only Abby remained.

Carol had urged Therese to go upstairs, that she’d join her soon, and Therese had gone up, but she’d been unable to move herself any further than the hallway. Just standing, listening, hearing Abby and Carol speaking quietly in the office, the creaks from the house, her own breathing. Their conversation reaches Therese when they get closer to the downstairs hallway. 

“I’m going to finish up a few things down here.” Abby says. “It won’t take long, go be with her.”

“It’s already late, you need to sleep too.” Carol insists.

“And I will, shortly. Go, you’ve been through enough tonight, let me ease the burden.” 

“What would I do without you?” Carol says dejectedly, and Therese thinks she hears them hug.

She doesn’t listen to the rest, still only a few paces away from the stairs, stuck staring at the open door to the guest room, which the moon and dim hall lights are illuminating. Would she sleep there? Would that make her feel any better? Every thought is obscured with a bone deep ache, every want and idea, and she is too tired to fight through it.

“Therese.” Carol says as she finds her standing there, concern lacing her voice. “Have you been standing here this whole time?” 

It’s only been five minutes. “I didn’t know where you wanted me.” Therese answers, turning to meet Carol’s gaze. 

“With me.” Carol says. “I want you with me.” 

Carol’s hand finds the small of Therese’s back and guides her toward her room. It’s easier to move knowing where Carol wants her. Therese stands a few feet from the bed, lifting a hand to rub at the back of her neck. Carol shuts the door behind them. 

Some items on the dressers and bureaus have been shifted, and Therese identifies those as places where cameras were hidden. She shuts her eyes, swallowing against a wave of nausea, she doesn’t want to think of the perspective that these cameras had had, from what angles had they stolen the act of trust and passion between she and Carol. But it’s hard to keep it from her mind, to try to picture herself anywhere but right there in the moment with Carol.

“I don’t have any clothes.” Therese says, opening her eyes to look at Carol. 

“I’ll lend you something.” She replies. “And wash what you have on now.”

“I’d like to shower.” 

Carol nods. “There are towels you can use on the shelf.” 

It takes Therese a few long seconds to make any move. And then tugs her sweatshirt over her head like a defiance against the malaise and the betrayal she feels. But she cannot take anything else off. Therese hands Carol her sweatshirt and goes— too fast— to the washroom. She leaves the door open a crack as she strips off the rest of her clothes, putting them together in a nice bundle and leaving them on the counter top. 

Therese steps into the large shower, surrounded by frosted glass for about five feet and transitioning into regular glass. She shuts the shower door and turns the water on, testing it on her hand until its the right amount of hot. She steps under the water, and closes her eyes, leaning her head back with a sigh. 

There’s a light tap on the door. 

“Can I take your clothes?” Carol asks.

“Yes.” Therese replies, and hears Carol step in and grab her clothes from the counter. 

“I’ll leave you some pajamas on the chair.” She says and leaves before Therese can say anything more. 

Therese looks around the space, observes that the shower head is moveable, sees that there is a bench, small tower of products though not in any excess. Therese moves the shower head and sits on the bench, still sitting under the spray of the water. Her neck and shoulders feel marginally better under the hot water but her whole body still aches like a bruise.

Soon Carol returns, placing some clothes on the wicker chair by the door, but she doesn’t say anything. Something akin to panic wells up in Therese’s chest when Carol shuts the door.

“Carol!” Therese calls, running her hand over her wet hair. She takes an uneasy breath. Carol opens the door again. 

“Are you alright?” Carol asks. 

Therese feels breathless. “Would you join me?” She asks weakly. 

Carol steps into the washroom and closes the door behind her. Therese watches her shape through the frosted glass and watches her place her clothes on the counter item by item, until she steps over to the shower door and opens it. 

Therese had not had the opportunity to truly look at her until now. Naked. 

Carol steps over to Therese, raising one hand to adjust the shower head above them both. Therese wraps her arm around Carol’s middle, still sitting on the bench, letting her legs frame Carol’s hips, and leans the bridge of her nose against the skin of Carol’s abdomen, just slightly higher than her navel. She’s soft, wonderfully soft and warm. Therese closes her eyes feeling rivulets of water running down Carol’s body and onto her face. 

Carol rests her hands on Therese’s shoulders and head, stroking her hair softly. Therese sighs and nuzzles against Carol’s tummy, hands pressing idly against the skin of her back. She opens her eyes, but doesn’t pull away, just glances over the intimate closeness she has with Carol’s skin, taking it all in. Pale little hairs made visible by the subtle curve of her abs, white and pink stretch marks that trail almost as low as the dark blonde curls of her pubic hair and as far back as her hips. 

Therese brings one hand forward, feeling the slightly looser skin Carol had acquired from carrying Rindy, and being unable to consider it anything other than beautiful. She presses slow open mouthed kissed to Carol’s abdomen and feels her shudder. She holds Therese’s shoulder a little more firmly. She does not add more love bites to Carol’s skin this time, merely explores her with her lips and tongue. Therese investigates one wide stretch mark, before venturing up and up and up until she stands and looks at Carol in the eyes. 

Her look is as deep as the ocean and Therese feels her cheeks burn. She brings her hands with her caressing Carol’s bare breasts with a careful grasp, drawing her thumb over Carol’s nipple. Therese ducks her head to kiss at the rise of the other breast, feels her sigh, and then kisses lower. Therese drags her lips from sternum, outward, and then returns. She gives both of Carol’s breasts attention with both hand and tongue, until she kisses her way up to Carol’s neck and hides her face against her skin, breathing deeply. 

They shift their stance in tandem, Carol’s arms moving lower to hold Therese around her waist while Therese winds her arms around Carol’s shoulders. Therese turns her head and kisses the underside of Carol’s jaw, and Carol indulges her with a slight smile on her face, that Therese can feel under her lips while she kisses her way along Carol’s cheek. She ghosts her lips over her earlobe, along her temple, and over her eyebrow, and then Carol turns her head and lets her do similarly to the other side, until she’s satisfied and leans the bridge of her nose against Carol’s. 

“Thank you.” Carol whispers, stroking her fingers gently over Therese’s back. 

“What for?” Therese murmurs.

“No one has touched me like that before.” She replies.

“I have a lot more of you to kiss.” Therese says softly.

Carol eases them into a kiss and Therese hums softly. They kiss slowly, and Therese presses herself closer to Carol, skin to skin with the hot water pouring over them. Carol eases them out of the kiss just as sweetly as they had entered into it. 

“Can I wash your hair?” Carol asks.

“I’d like that.” 

 

~**~ 

 

She’d turned off her phone to conserve the battery shortly after she and Carol had come back inside. Now, Therese wonders if she ought to ask about a charger, sitting cross legged on the turned down bed, dressed in the clothes that Carol had lent her. She’s fiddling nervously with the phone in her hands, though feels much better than she had before the shower.

Carol leans out of the bathroom, towel drying her hair as she does, and spots Therese’s nervous posture. 

“There’s a charger on my side.” She says, and watches Therese crawl over and plug her phone in.

“Thanks.” Therese replies, plopping down on Carol’s side of the bed and pressing half her face into the pillow, looking back at Carol. 

Carol looks back fondly, and hangs the towel up before slipping out of the washroom and joining Therese in bed. 

“I’d like to go to the chalet early.” She says, remaining upright as she gazes down at Therese. Carol draws her hand over Therese’s wrist, and Therese catches her fingers idly. “I know logically all the cameras are gone, but I don’t feel comfortable here right now.”

“Do you think you will again?” Therese asks. “Feel comfortable here— I mean.” 

“I don’t know.” Carol admits. “I think I’d need Abby to do one of her makeovers on it; paint, redecorate.” She shrugs. “I don’t know.” 

“When do you want to go to the chalet?” Therese turns more onto her back, taking Carol’s hand and holding it over her hip. 

“Tomorrow. I don’t mind if we get a late start, I still need to work on the statement for my PR, but… I’d like to go tomorrow— I’ll take us to your apartment first and help you pack and we can go.” Carol gives Therese’s hand a squeeze. 

“Help me pack?” 

“I can’t take you with me without any luggage, Therese.” She says, almost scolding. 

“I guess I’m not used to someone fitting me into their plans like that.” 

“There is no plan if you’re not involved.” Carol says, and after a beat. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes.” She frowns a little. “I wouldn’t know how to navigate this on my own.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls last night— I was getting so many calls I couldn’t keep track.” 

“It’s alright. I reached you eventually.” 

Carol sighs, and it’s almost a laugh, and leans over Therese. She lays her weight on her, pressing her face into the crook of Therese’s neck and letting her hands find Therese’s sides. She hums softly, making Therese giggle. Carol plants her hand and rolls them over, reclaiming her side of the bed and ending up with Therese perched above her. Therese smiles at her fondly and leans in to kiss her chastely. 

“I want you to sign off on the statement I make for my PR.” Carol says, rubbing Therese’s arm. 

“How so?” 

“It’ll have my name on it but I want it to come from both of us.” 

Therese nods. “Okay. What does a PR statement look like?”

Carol looks pensive for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Acknowledging the incident. Giving my side… making sure everyone— every _fan_ — is still aware that I’m— we’re _people_.” She shrugs.

“What do you want to say about us?” Therese asks. There is a touch of uncertainty in her tone.

When Carol meets her gaze she feels miles high and fathoms deep and pierced, utterly, through her spirit.

“That I’m grieving the privacy I would have liked to have to explore my relationship with you.” She says. “That I’m angry you’ve been thrust into this prematurely.” Carol gives Therese’s arm a light squeeze. “That the newness of this doesn’t mean it’s not incredibly significant to me.”

“I can sign off on that.” Therese says with a slight nod. “My name is going to be out there soon— because of the photoshoot. Would you rather wait for them to put the pieces together to just come out and say who I am?” 

“I don’t want you to be suddenly overwhelmed by media attention— if we wait for the photoshoot at least it may be more gradual.” 

“Okay.” Therese lays her head down on Carol’s chest and closes her eyes when Carol begins combing her fingers through Therese’s hair. 

Just when she thinks she could fall asleep like that her phone vibrates and she sighs. 

“I should text Danny back.” Therese says, sitting up and reaching over Carol for her phone. 

There are a few unanswered texts but she really only cares about the ones from Danny. 

TERRY: im okay, I went to carol’s. There were cameras in her house but they found all of them

Carol turns over and pulls a small notebook off the lower shelf of the bedside table. There is a pen inside. She opens it and one handedly begins writing while keeping a hand on Therese’s back. 

Therese’s phone suddenly buzzes loudly, taking her a bit by surprise. It’s a call. It’s Danny. 

“Danny hi—” Therese greets, bringing the phone to her ear. 

“I’m sorry to call you like that, I just didn’t think I could check on you through just text.” 

“That’s alright— thank you.” 

“So you’re with her right now?— you’re alright?” He sounds so concerned it makes her feel warm, assured.

“Yes. And we’re about as alright as we can be I guess.” Therese closes her eyes when she feels Carol spread her hand out against her back and rub her thumb against her shoulder blade. 

“I googled her after I left, Terry.” His voice is guilt ridden. “One minute to the next there were click-bait headlines about the video…” He exhales heavily, making crackling and popping noises on the line. “As soon as I realized what it was I closed it and called you.” 

“You watched the video?” Therese asks, feeling suddenly the same rocks in her belly as earlier. 

“No— I mean I wasn’t sure what it was, but I saw that you were in it and I closed it right away! I promise you, I only watched a few seconds.” 

“You promise?” It hurts to ask. Therese can’t look at Carol right now. 

“I promise. I would not disrespect our friendship or your privacy like that.” 

Therese shudders, and takes a deep breath. “So many people have.” She says weakly.

“And I’m not one of them. I reported it after I texted you.” 

“Thank you.”

“So you’re safe?” He asks, genuinely. 

“Yeah, Carol has lawyers and PR people and stuff. We’re going to go to her chalet for a while with her daughter.” 

“I can’t imagine the ex is pleased about this.”

Therese breathes a laugh. “I almost punched him, actually. A police officer who was outside the house restrained me before I could.” 

Carol nudges her, and when Therese meets her gaze Carol gives her something akin to a frown and a pout.

“I would pay to see that.” Danny jokes. 

“I wish the cop had been slower.” Therese says, looking Carol in the eyes. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, Terry?” Danny asks. 

Therese thinks about it for a few seconds. 

“Can you meet me at my apartment tomorrow?— I’m not sure what time yet.” 

“Yeah of course, just text me whenever you’re sure.” 

“Okay.” 

“You try to get some rest.” He says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks Danny.” 

“Goodnight.” 

She ends the call. 

“That was Danny?” Carol asks, and Therese looks back at her, nodding. 

“He was one of the first people who called me… about the video.” 

“You were worried he watched it.” It isn’t a question. 

“Yes. But he promised he didn’t— at least only a few seconds to realize it was me in it.”

“You trust that?” The question holds doubt but lack any accusation. 

“Yes.” Therese says, looking down at the unanswered texts she has. “I trust him.” 

But as she sees the preview for a text from Rick, she is overcome with a certain sense of irony, and opens the messages.

RICK: I can’t believe this lesbian thing was with carol aird  
RICK: I never thought you had that sorta passion in you terry   
RICK: I wish I could have been on the receiving end  
RICK: but clearly I’ve got the wrong bits for your tastes  
RICK: or maybe its the big label getting to your head  
RICK: I never expected you to sleep your way up the ladder

Therese takes a screenshot of the messages, and then deletes the conversation. To think she can trust her friend more than the man who was supposed to have loved her for the last two years.

“Can you plug this in for me, and turn it off?” Therese asks handing the phone to Carol. She does. 

Therese sinks down, head on the pillows, and looks at Carol, who still has her hand in her notebook, scribbling something onto the page. 

“Work on that tomorrow morning.” Therese says, reaching out and running her hand over Carol’s clothed leg. Carol looks at her, smiling tiredly, and places her notebook and pen down on the side table next to Therese’s phone. She turns off the light, plunging them into a darkness that glows in a white-blue hue from the moonlight outside.

“C’mere.” She says when she lies down, and takes Therese into her arms in a tight and secure embrace. 

Therese hums contentedly, tucking her face against Carol’s side. She draws her hands down Carol’s back, returning the strength of the hold until she finds the small of her back and keeps her hand there. 

“I’m glad I’m here with you.” Therese murmurs, and Carol nuzzles her head with her cheek. “I’d be spiraling out of control, I have no idea how to make sense of any of this.” 

Carol presses a kiss to Therese’s forehead. “You won’t. I’m here.” 

Therese lifts her head, Carol kisses her. 

“We’ll be okay.” Carol promises. “I’ll keep you steady.”

 

 

~**~

 

Therese spots Danny waiting inside the alcove by her building’s front door. Carol manages to park right in front. Rindy is in her car seat, bundled up in her special blanket. 

“Should we come in with you?” Carol asks. 

“Yeah.” Therese unbuckles. “I won’t be long but I don’t want you to wait here.” 

“I gotta pee!” Rindy says. 

“I guess that settles that.” Carol laughs. 

They get out of the car, and Therese goes ahead over to Danny.

“Danny— hey.” She says, and he steps out of the alcove. 

“Hey Terry.” Danny greets, and opens an arm, offering a hug. She gives him a brief hug. “How are you holding up?” 

“Alright, all things considered.” She says, stepping back. 

Carol and Rindy walk over. Rindy immediately takes Therese’s hand, and looks up at Danny. 

“Carol Aird, Danny McElroy.” Therese introduces them, and Danny offers a hand to shake. 

“Nice to meet you.” Carol says, and he smiles. 

“You as well.” He says, and looks down at Rindy. “Hey kiddo, I’m Danny, what’s your name?” 

“Rindy.” She says, and holds out her hand. He laughs and shakes her hand. 

“Nice to meet you too, Rindy.” He says, and she shakes his hand enthusiastically. 

“I gotta pee.” She says, and Therese laughs. 

“Let’s go inside.” Therese pulls open the lobby door. 

Therese guides them toward the stairs. 

“Elevator out?” Carol asks. 

“Somewhat permanently.” Therese says with a laugh, taking Rindy’s hand and helping her jump up two steps at a time until they get up to the third floor. 

“Hey Rindy, I’ve got a lot of art stuff laying around, I gotta ask that you don’t touch it. Okay?” Therese fishes her keys out of her pocket and unlocks her door, dropping Rindy’s hand. 

“Can I look though?” Rindy asks. 

“Yeah that’s fine.” She says and opens the door. 

“I can show you some stuff while Terry packs.” Danny says. 

“Cool!” Rindy says, and they all slip into the apartment. 

Therese turns on some lights. As usual the apartment is cold, and quiet, and full of Therese’s personality. 

“The bathroom is just there.” Therese points as everyone files in and takes off their boots. 

Carol takes Rindy’s jacket for her and lets her scamper over to the washroom and shut the door almost all the way behind her. Just as quickly Carol hangs the jackets up and goes over to the door to see if Rindy needs any help. She goes in. 

“So what did you need me for?” Danny asks as they make their way into the apartment. Therese turns the space heater on. 

“I’d feel better if someone had my spare keys while I’m gone.” Therese answers. 

She goes over to the deep utility closet and pulling out a large suitcase. She kneels down in front of it and opens it revealing, in turn, like nested dolls another three suitcases. She takes out the middle size of the three, its charcoal colour visible through a dozen large stickers of Therese’s art.

“I may need you to bring my mail up, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” Therese says as she sets the suitcase aside, and tucks the other two back into the closet before getting up and heading to her living area. She places the suitcase on the coffee table and goes ahead and opens a drawer of her armoire. “Is that alright?”

“I can do that for you. No problem.” 

“Thanks.” Therese says. 

Danny sits at the edge of one of Therese’s chairs, ready to rise at a moment’s notice. Carol and Rindy exit the washroom, and Rindy bounces over to where Therese’s canvases lie drying. 

“Wow.” She breathes and looks them over, leaning in to inspect. 

Danny rises and goes over to her, kneeling. “They’re pretty aren’t they?” 

“Pretty colours.” Rindy agrees. 

Danny talks to Rindy about the art, and Carol goes over to Therese, placing a hand on her back. 

“How many days should I pack for?” Therese asks.

“Twelve? There’s a washing machine at the chalet.” 

“Okay.” 

Therese makes quick work of packing her necessities but takes more time picking the shirts and pants, thinking of outfits she can piece together with different items. Carol wanders over to Danny and Rindy in looking at Therese’s recent paintings. The chatter is idle and Therese finds it utterly comforting as she rolls her clothes up tightly and sticks them into her suitcase. 

Socks, underwear— two extra than necessary, slippers, trousers, shirts, a few sweaters, leggings, pajamas. When she’s satisfied with what she’s packed she takes her toiletries bag and steps into the washroom. 

Carol smiles as she watches Rindy utterly captivated by Therese’s art. 

“I watched Terry paint this the other day.” Danny says, motioning to the painting that had been borne of the lip-stick shade pink. Carol glances at it, her smile changing to something incredibly fond. Much like she had looked over the paintings she’d seen on Christmas Eve, Carol takes in all the details she can in this painting. The variety of familiar hues— familiar in a gentle sort of way. She thinks as well that Therese had paid incredible attention to capture the colours and shapes so well, to combine them in such a way that pleases the eye. 

Carol slips away, heading over to the bathroom where she lightly knocks on the door. Therese turns to look at her, a smile on her face. 

“How’s it coming?” Carol asks.

“I’m almost done.” 

“Your painting is beautiful.” Carol says quietly. 

“Which?” Therese asks, momentarily oblivious as she tucks some basic items into her toiletries bag. She pauses and looks back at Carol. “The pink and gold?”

“And blue… yes.” Carol nods. “I didn’t know you liked that lipstick shade so much.” 

Therese smiles sheepishly. “I wouldn’t like it on just anyone.” She says, zipping the bag shut and stepping over to Carol. 

Carol reaches up and cups Therese’s face, pulling her close and kissing her. Therese parts her lips thoughtfully, closing her eyes and melting into Carol’s touch. 

“I’m just about ready.” Therese murmurs. “Can you think of anything else I might need?” 

Carol laughs and lets her pass, heading out to the suitcase again. She puts her toiletries bag into her suitcase.

“Shoes?” Carol suggests.

“Good idea.” So Therese goes back over to her armoire and picks out a pair of black trainers she can wear around the house. She’d already put slippers in her luggage, but she supposes a decent pair of shoes to walk in wouldn’t hurt. 

“Terry your art is so pretty!” Rindy bounces over and grabs at her shirt, a big grin on her face. 

“Thank you.” Therese replies, placing a tender hand on Rindy’s head. 

“Are you almost done?” Rindy asks, standing on her toes to see into Therese’s bag. 

“I think so.” She answers, running her hand over her hair. Therese glances over at Carol. “I think I’ll change.” 

“By all means.” Carol says. 

Therese picks some fresh clothes out of her dresser and heads back into the washroom. 

It doesn’t take her long to change, and she reemerges and drops her clothes into her the hamper and replaces the lid. Her new outfit is comfortable and warm for the car trip and she had put her hair up. A pair of tapered flannel-wool trousers and a greyish green long sleeve, mock neck, cotton shirt. She shrugs on a half-zip purple hoodie with a wide hood and sighs, and zips up her luggage. 

“I’m packed.” She says, and looks over at Carol, and then Danny. 

“Do you need to do anything else?” Danny asks. 

Therese thinks about it for a second, nodding. “I should turn the water off. Don’t want the pipes to burst.”

She goes over to the bathroom once again and opens a panel on the wall to the right of the door. She gives a slight grunt as the lever sticks. Danny goes over to the door, seeing her fight with it. 

“Stuck?” He asks. Therese laughs. “Want some help?”

“Give it your all.” Therese offers, and steps aside. 

Danny takes a look at the lever, and gives it a jiggle, before giving it a tentative tug to the right. It doesn’t budge, so he tries again, as Therese looks on from the doorway, looking over to Carol with a mirthful expression on her face. Danny gives a grunt and Therese hears a metallic scraping sound. But he gets it.

“Does your landlord do any kind of maintenance on this building?” Danny asks, and he and Therese step back into the main room. 

“Not really.” Therese replies. “I have some plumbers grease under the kitchen sink, think that’d make a difference?” 

“I’ll remember that for when you come back.” He says, and Therese smiles. 

She picks up her luggage and sets it on its four wheels, taking it over to Carol.

“Ready?” Therese asks, looking down at Rindy. She nods. 

“We’re gonna stop for lunch right?” Rindy asks. And Carol laughs. 

“Yes baby, we’ll stop for lunch.” Carol takes Therese’s suitcase and brings it over to the door while Therese grabs her coat and scarf gloves. She grabs a small reusable bag and stuffs a hat and mittens and the scarf into it. From the shelf near her door Therese grabs the spare keys and holds them out for Danny.

“Here. Just in case.” She says. Danny takes them and pockets them. 

“Just in case.”

Therese shrugs on her long coat and slips her small cross body bag over her shoulder. 

“It was nice to meet you, Carol.” Danny says. 

“You too, Danny. Hopefully we’ll get to see more of each other.” 

“I’d like that.” Danny says. 

“I would too!” Rindy exclaims. “Danny does art like Terry, he’s cool.” 

Danny grins. “Thanks Rindy. I think you’re cool too.” 

She gets a little smug grin on her face.

“Rindy is cool!” Therese says. “She’s got a very impressive collection of stuffed animals, a whole zoo! And she knows all about them too.” 

“Wow! You like animals?” He asks.

Rindy’s grin widens, she nods. “It’s true I have a zoo. And lotta books. My favourite is the pangolin!” 

“Oh I’ve heard of those!” Danny says, and imitates how they walk, making Rindy giggle. 

“Let’s get going.” Carol says softly, and opens the door. 

Danny and Rindy slip into the hallway, Danny still trying to imitate a pangolin’s gate. 

Therese takes hold of the handle of her suitcase, and Carol places her hand over hers. Therese looks at her, sees a searching expression. 

“Are you alright?” Therese says. 

“Are you sure you want to come?” Carol asks. 

Therese takes Carol’s hand more firmly in hers. 

“How can you ask that, Carol?” She pushes the suitcase out from between them and grabs onto the lapel of Carol’s coat. “I don’t want to be here alone.” Therese says. “I’m staying with you, and Rindy.” 

Carol leans her forehead against Therese’s. “I don’t want to throw you into the public eye like this, it isn’t fair.”

“Carol…” Therese says softly. “Let me be here for you, let me love you.”

“Love me?” Carol whispers.

“Can’t you tell how much I love you?” Therese breathes. 

Carol nods. Therese kisses her. 

“Let’s go, we’ve still gotta stop for lunch.” Therese smiles, and Carol grins.

“Thank you.” Carol says. 

“For what?” 

Carol shrugs. “I haven’t had someone tell me that and believed it, not in a long time.”

“Believe it.” Therese says with conviction. “I haven’t meant it for anyone until now.” 

 

~**~

 

The grocery store is quiet, only a few people lingering in the isles with small carts and baskets, picking up last minute items. The store doesn’t close until eleven. Carol’s chalet is only a fifteen minute drive from here and they needed some things before they made it all the way there. There are a few packages of firewood in the bottom of Therese’s cart, and she’s finding items from a list she and Carol had put together while they drove and Rindy napped. 

Carol and Rindy are across the street getting take away, they would come and find her when the order was finished, and she didn’t mind. It felt good to stretch her legs after being in the car for so long. Her jacket is open and her half-zip hoodie is down as far as it’ll go. She feels oddly pleasant about doing this shopping, finding the items and ticking them off with a pen Carol had fished out of her bag before heading in opposite directions to divide and conquer the tasks to finally get to the chalet and unload.

The sound of Rindy’s excited voice a few isles away reaches Therese’s ears. She takes a bottle of _no sugar added_ blueberry and pomegranate (and she notices there is also apple, grape, sweet potato and carrots in it, “hidden vegetables” as Carol had put it with a laugh, but insisted that Rindy was already pretty good with eating her vegetables). She sticks the bottle in the cart, and pushes the cart around the corner. 

“I found Terry!” Rindy squeals, and runs over to her and the cart, climbing on the end. 

“Did you get the food?” Therese greets, and Rindy nods. 

“It’s in the car.” 

Carol walks over, smiling softly at the exchange. “Almost done?” 

Therese nods, unable to contain a grin. “Yeah just a few more things. Eggs, sausage, bacon, cheeses.”

“Let’s go. I’m hungry, and my bum is tired of being in the car!” Rindy announces. 

Therese pushes the cart with Rindy on it past into another isle. There is a pharmacy at the back of the grocery store, and the three of them go past it. A few people are waiting for their orders to be filled, sitting in the waiting area. A man with a buzz cut wearing a dull green sweater under his simple black jacket seems to be scrutinizing the blood pressure cuff machine. Therese feels an odd sense of deja vu but is pulled from it when Carol points out the cheese fridge. 

“We’re looking for a Brie— think you can find that Rindy?” Carol asks, and Rindy scrunches up her face. 

“That has B-R…?” She tries to spell it. 

“I-E.” Therese finishes.

“B-R-I-E.” Rindy repeats, whispering the letters to herself as she looks over the cheeses. 

It takes her a moment, but she finds a section of half a dozen brands of Brie cheese. 

“There!” She points.

“Good job!” Carol picks up two and compares them, reading over the labels.

Therese picks up a honey and cranberry goat cheese and looks it over as well. 

“If you want that you can put it in the cart.” Carol says, without looking up from the brie label. 

“It isn’t on the list.” Therese says. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Carol meets her gaze with a small smile. “Besides, I saw a bag of marshmallows the size of a small fist and I am thinking it would be fun to roast them in the fire pit in the backyard.” 

Therese scrunches up her nose. “There’s a fire pit!?” 

She’s always adored campfires and bonfires, drinks and fire roasted foods and sticky fingers. Carol smiles again, catching the fond expression on Therese’s face. “I think that’s my answer.” She laughs. 

They make quick work of the last few items, including the marshmallows, which are indeed ridiculously large. As they push the cart from the grocery store, Therese notices a self-serve coffee station next to a newspaper and magazine stand. Carol pushes the cart, and Therese holds Rindy’s hand as they pass through the revolving doors and into the cool and dark parking lot. 

As they step off the sidewalk toward Carol’s car, Therese is nearly pulled off balance when Rindy’s legs slips right out from under on a patch of dark ice. If she weren’t holding Rindy’s hand she surely would have fallen.

“Whoa!” Rindy exclaims, holding a hand out for balance and holding more tightly to Therese’s hand. “Careful Mumma it’s slippery.”

“You okay?” Therese asks. 

“Yep.” 

“Let’s watch where we step.” Therese proposes. 

“Walk like a penguin.” Rindy says. “Keep your feet flat.” She shows her the penguin walk and she and Therese do their own careful penguin walks the whole trek through the parking lot.

As they’re loading the groceries into what little space remains in the back seat and floor space of the car, a surprised yell has Therese looking over her shoulder. The man from the waiting area has slipped on the same ice Rindy had and spilled a small coffee on the ground next to him. 

“Are you alright?” Therese calls, taking a few steps in his general direction.

The man waves a dismissive hand, cursing to himself. “Yes— Fine— Yes.” He grunts, adding a barely audible, “thanks” as an afterthought. As he gets up pick up the now empty paper coffee cup (which he chucks into the trash can) Therese feels that odd sense of deja vu again. Just as she thinks she might be able to put a finger on the feeling, her stomach growls audibly and Rindy giggles.

“Let’s go Mumma! The food will be so cold! Terry’s belly is growling!” She climbs into her seat and kicks off her boots before snuggling into her seat.

Carol laughs, and leans in, surprising Therese with a quick kiss that leaves a flushed smile on her face. 

“I wouldn’t want to starve my girls any longer.” Carol agrees, winking playfully. Therese breathes a laugh, heading over to the passenger side door and letting herself in, grinning at the feeling in her tummy like warm honey. 

Carol straps Rindy into her car seat, and within a few moments they’re pulling out of the parking lot and into the street. As they wait for the light to change, Therese spots the man again, holding a new coffee and stepping carefully away from the sidewalk. When the light changes and they pull away, she sees him turn— and though she can’t be sure because the lights are dim and they are rather far away, she thinks perhaps he might be watching them go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and as always your comments fill me with joy and nourish my soul! 
> 
> If you'd like to find me elsewhere I am on tumblr at @louisemiller.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To think, I haven't updated since December 30th. I needed to take a small creative hiatus from this project in the last few months. I have gotten all your comments, and am glad you are so invested in this story to worry about me.  
> I am participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this month (April 2019) and thus will hopefully be updating more often as I get through the last 10 chapters of this story.  
> The Grammarly extension and a few read-overs are the extent of the editing this chapter has received. I do hope you can read it all smoothly. Enjoy !

There are three locks on the large front door of the house, which Therese can hear are long bolts. Therese holds onto one of the bags of food, while Rindy stands beside her bouncing excitedly with a smaller bag in her arms. Carol opens the door and they step into a large mudroom with a deep doorless closet with colour coordinated hangers.

“Oh oh oh I love it already!” Rindy squeaks, bouncing into the roomy area lined with coarse but stylish rugs and wiping her boots. She places the takeaway bag on the cushioned bench and sits, taking off her boots. They all take off their boots, and coats, quietly hanging them up.

Therese is foremost interested in watching Carol, wishing her eyes could capture the excitement on her lover’s face as she steps into and sees, for the first time, the chalet Abby had redesigned for her.

The second door into the house is paned with frosted and textured glass, and Carol turns the knob and pushes the door open into the main living area. Therese finds the light switch to their left and the space comes to life before them.

If Therese has anything to compare Carol’s expression to it is that unbidden and heartfelt joy that she saw on her face during the snowfall at the tree lot.

“Wow,” Carol says softly.

From where they stand, a wide staircase is visible, leading up to the floors above. Beyond it, to the right is a dining area and kitchen, semi-open concept, ending in curtained French windows through which a hint of moonlight are slipping in. And to the left is a large living area, with a couch and shelving.

Carol takes the first steps into the living room, a grin breaking out across her face.

“Wow—” she says again. “This is incredible.”

Therese and Rindy follow and Therese is convinced the girl’s eyes will pop right out of her head for how big and happy her expression is.

“Aunt Abby really made this?” Rindy asks. “Out of the old one?”

The fireplace. It has clearly been restored with stones in different shades of deep grey, all with a faint glitter to them. The fireplace surround is made up of beautiful ceramic tile that extends out two feet. A fireplace guard of masterful metalwork sits in front of the grate on which some logs are already waiting to be lit.

“Yeah, she did honey,” Carol replies, kneeling down and touching the tile with her right hand. “She’s outdone herself with this alone.”

Therese holds both bags of take-away, more than happy to watch Carol and Rindy discover the cottage again, already thoroughly impressed with the beautiful design work. She can see a modern record player in one of the deep-set built-in shelves, along with a collection of records that provide a splash of colour on one of the shelves. There are photographs and books on the shelves as well, enriching the space and making it feel incredibly homely.

“Let’s go see the kitchen so we can eat!” Rindy explains, bounding away. Despite the obvious renovations, it’s clear that the old bones of the house are still well intact because the floors creak welcomingly under her excited feet.

Carol turns and beams at Therese. “What do you think?” She asks.

“It’s beautiful.” Therese agrees.

Carol stands and takes one of the bags from Therese, taking her newly liberated hand and making their way together into the kitchen.

The table they are greeted with is long and wide, the side closest to the wall hosts a bench as its seating while the other three sides host attractive chairs.

Therese and Carol put the takeaway bags on the table. Therese glances over at Rindy who seems to be contemplating the eclectic shelving options, host to equally attractive and colour coordinated dishware. The counter begins with a sort of bar at which four backed stools sit tucked underneath, which could double as counter space. They run all the way to the end of the room only a few steps away from the first of the French doors, that Therese is sure she’ll discover the beyonds of quite soon. The range and dishwasher are a matte charcoal colour, as is the hood over the stove, a microwave is hidden under a metallic shelf which holds four reasonably sized artfully designed mugs. Therese can see a modest coffee maker, and a kettle, as well as an array of canned loose leaf teas on the shelf above, and finally a toaster.

“Can we eat now or should we explore the house first?” Rindy asks.

As if on cue, Therese’s stomach rumbles.

Carol laughs. “We should eat. I can contain my excitement for that long.”

“Can you grab the bags, Rindy? I can serve our plates and see if they need to be warmed up.” Therese says, and Rindy does just that.

They take turns washing their hands, Therese taking down three plates from the shelf, and finding a large spoon in one of the drawers. Carol finds napkins and cutlery and sets the table. Rindy reads out the names of the teas, and they all end up deciding one in particular sounds tasty. After Therese rotates plates in the microwave Carol starts to help Rindy prepare the tea in reusable silicon tea-steepers.

“I’ll go get our bags,” Therese says. “That okay?”

“You won’t need any help?” Carol asks.

“No, I’ll be alright.”

“The car keys are in my coat pocket.”

Therese empties the car of its many pieces of luggage, leaving them all to sit in the main hall by the door. She replaces the keys into Carol’s pocket and rejoins Carol and Rindy in the kitchen. Everything is set out, food and mugs of warm tea, and such a welcoming feeling that Therese could contentedly drown in it.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Something about the pattering of excited feet on the hardwood of the chalet’s floors has a smile playing at Therese’s lips, gaze following Rindy’s ascent up the stairs with a flutter of excitement in her belly. Carol is only a few steps ahead, and it’s plain to see that she is just as excited to see the renovated home as her daughter.

Rindy squeals with delight and Therese and Carol exchange amused glances.

“This is amazING!” Rindy’s scream echoes down the hall, and by the slight wince on her face, Therese can see that Carol is restraining herself from reminding Rindy to use her quiet voice.

The little girl isn’t wrong though, the second floor is just as lovely as the first. Built-in bookshelves are filled with books and decorations. The lower shelves hold books that Rindy could read or have read to her; _Charlotte’s Web_ , _James and the Giant Peach_ , a collection of the _Magic Treehouse_ series, _Mathilda_ , some larger children’s books about animals and dinosaurs and insects. The higher shelves hold a mass of volumes, of which Therese recognizes some. Novels from her childhood and secondary schooling, early editions _Nancy Drew Mysteries_ , the _Lord of the Rings_ and _The Hobbit_ , _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , _The Giver_ , and more.

But Rindy has already bolted ahead, past the open door of her bedroom to another room with a wider doorway and no door at all. The room is incredibly organized with child-height shelves and a movable step for her to reach the higher shelves. Therese hadn’t had any of this, but the joy radiating off of Rindy is utterly contagious, and she has no room in her heart to be anything but thrilled for the little girl.

In chests and on shelves and chairs sit toy animals. Large and knitted or sewn, species ranging from sea creatures to farm animals. She spots a large whale, and an orange knitted octopus, a stingray, a fabric fox, two knitted rabbits, an owl, a mouse, and two otters (one with a fish in its mouth), a frog and two baby ducks. Most are in wicker baskets and fabric boxes, but Therese takes in the array of wooden toys displayed in front of their storage spots; more animals, including dinosaurs, exotic birds, woodland creatures. There are also different sized trucks, a toolset and doctor’s kit, vegetables and kitchen utensils— and a miniature kitchen and dollhouse at that.

It’s any child’s heaven, it’s any parent’s dream— to see toys that offer a world of creative self-play opportunities. Therese sees puzzles and games, a trike and a little truck Rindy could ride by pushing with her feet, an abundance of blocks and stacking shapes, and a wooden toy camera, and a wooden shield and sword, and even a little mushroom-shaped wooden bowling set.

They’ve stood in silence in the doorway, taking everything in with a certain sense of awe until they hear a wail from the corner of the room where a foam mattress and cushions and a lamp are set up.

Rindy’s arms are around the giant knitted octopus, which is almost larger than her. She sobs loudly.

“Baby, why are you crying?!” Carol asks, walking over to the reading nook and kneeling down next to Rindy. Therese follows, sitting on a small chair beside a small craft table.

Carol places a hand on Rindy back and she wails again.

“Hermione—”

“It’s s—s—so—so beautiful!” Rindy pulls her face away from the giant toy octopus, tears glistening on her cheeks. She hugs it to her chest, taking in big gulps of breath. “Ev—everything!” She sobs. “Every—everything is wo—derful!”

In spite of herself, Therese begins to giggle, and Carol glances at her with laughter in her expression. She scoops Rindy and the giant squid into her arms and hugs the four-year-old close. Rindy winds an arm around Carol’s shoulder.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Therese acknowledges, coming to kneel next to them. She strokes her hand over Rindy’s hair and she nods, barely able to hold the knitted squid and hug her mother at the same time without losing her grip.

“Aunt Abby picked such—such n—nice toys…” Rindy stammers, big eyes looking at the shelves over Carol’s shoulder. “…I love them, I love them.” She says, whispering her appreciation until she’s calmed down.

Rindy sniffles and leans out of Carol’s hug, letting her mother wipe her cheeks with her thumb.

“You wanna give Aunt Abby a call tomorrow to say thank you?” Carol asks, and Rindy nods.

“I gotta tell her she’s so smart that she knowed just what to get!”

“She _knew_   just what to get.” Carol corrects gently, and Rindy scrunches up her nose.

“She _knew—_ she knew.” Rindy looks thoughtful for a second and then frowns.

“What’s the matter, kiddo?” Therese asks, and Carol scoots back to sit next to her.

Rindy thinks for a moment. “We see Aunt Abby _all the time,_ so she knows I like animals and bugs, and dinosaurs…” she trails off a bit, looking down at the lovely orange wool of the giant squid. She runs her hand over it. “But… but we send emails and do video chatting _and_ have phone calls with Grandma, so how come she didn’t know what I like?”

Carol’s expression sobers, softening and glancing in turn away from her daughter’s searching expression. Therese sees guilt in her expression, uncertainty.

“I think she had to guess a bit,” Therese answers, taking Carol’s hand. “I think she forgot that you like all that cool stuff.”

“Grandma doesn’t listen so well,” Carol says with a sigh. “She gets ideas about what girls should like, and doesn’t like being wrong.”

Rindy makes a face. “We should tell her louder next time so she remembers.” Her tone is one of finality.

“Okay,” Carol agrees.

“Can I stay and play while you go see yours and Terry’s room?” Rindy asks.

Carol nods, smiling. “Sure— but don’t you wanna see your bedroom?”

Rindy looks over her shoulder. “I can wait.”

“Okay.”

Carol and Therese stand, leaving Rindy to explore the array of toys she’d been provided, and step out into the wide hallway. A carpet runner curves around the corner and stops at the base of another, shorter but wider staircase that leads to a small landing and the master suite.

Carol pushes open the door and lets Therese in ahead of her.

“Wow,” Therese says softly, taking in the space.

There is another fireplace in here, similarly designed with stone and a tile surround. An empty frame sits above the mantle which hosts a small assortment of decor. Opposite the fireplace is a king sized bed, with a lovely metal bed frame that matches in hue the metalwork of the fireplace guard. A rich wood dresser with big drawers sits to the right of the fireplace, between which is a sort of skinny shelf where logs are stored. There are a lamp, two candles and an empty vase on top of it.

Beyond the dresser further to the right are deep closets which are covered only by decorative curtains, which match the ones covering the windows on the far right wall of the room. They are a dark teal with god and black patterning that reminds Therese of peacock feathers.

To the far left of the room is a sitting area with a small couch and coffee table, as well as a desk and chair and another lamp.

“She really outdid herself,” Carol says, wandering through the space until she disappears inside the washroom.

Therese follows her, hearing her laugh. When she passes the threshold she immediately notices the large claw foot soaker tub nestled into a nook, and featuring its own custom bath tray. A teak bath mat matches the width of the tub. The shower curtain has been pulled to the side and follows a curved rod from one side of the nook to the other. There is a drain in the middle of the room among the subtle tile, which matches the vanity and walls tiles as well.

Carol pulls the shower curtain closed revealing the artful pattern of large green fern leaves against a cream background.

“Remind me to get some bath bombs if we go to the mall,” Carol says thoughtfully.

Therese laughs. “I will.”

Carol turns to her, a beaming smile on her face. Her glisten but there is nothing but contentment in her expression. “I understand how emotional Rindy got,” she admits. “I— I have no idea what I can say to Abby… this— she…”

“She knows.” Therese grins. “There aren’t any right words. This house is beautiful.”

Carol nods. “I haven’t even seen Rindy’s room yet.”

“Do you think she’ll want to sleep in the reading nook?” Therese teases.

“God, I hope not. I’ll let her take as many of the stuffed animals as she wants to bed if it means she’s in a bed.”

Therese laughs again. “Shall we go see if she’s ready to see her room?”

“Even if she isn’t, I want to see it.”

Carol takes Therese’s hand and they slip out of the washroom, through the master suite and out to the hall.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

Clothes are splayed on the bed, and Therese makes quick work of folding them and placing them into the drawers on the left side of the dresser— as Carol had specified. Carol’s suitcase remains half full on the other side of the bed, and a right-side dresser drawer partially open. She’d gone to help Rindy unpack and get ready for bed. Therese had joined them briefly, and given Rindy a little snuggle in her big bedroom, which ended up being just a lovely as her playroom. There was space for a guest should Rindy ever bring one, plenty of books and another smaller desk with crayons and a stack of colouring books. All the things in her room are meant for quiet play, creative and individual. Once she was settled, Therese had said goodnight and returned to unpacking, letting Carol read a book with Rindy before she went to sleep.

The fireplace crackles and snaps, casts patterned shadows on the floor and throws the light when it bounces off the lovely somehow braided and floral pattern of the tile surround. Therese can feel the warmth of it as she passes back and forth from the bed to the dresser with handfuls of folded items, and has to refrain from grabbing a cushion and sitting down right in front of the grate and warming herself like a cat.

She only brought a few accessories with her; some earrings, a watch, a few rings. The top drawers of the dresser are tiny, and inlaid with velvet, the perfect spot for her jewelry. When Therese pulls open the draw it sticks. She pushes it back in carefully and hears something clatter softly inside. It opens smoothly on the second try and something sparkles gently on the teal velvet inside.

A ring. An ovular violet coloured gem, framed on the left by other tiny gems, white and deeper purple, forming something akin to a point while simultaneously appearing floral.

Therese pinches the ring between her index and thumb and regards it curiously.

“How’s the unpacking going?” Carol asks, appearing in the doorway.

Therese turns, giving her a smile. “I found this in one of the small drawers.” She holds it out. Carol raises a curious brow and strides over, taking Therese’s hand to inspect the ring.

“Oh,” she says. “I got this at an art fair.” She glances at the dresser, where the jewelry drawer remains open. “It was in the drawer?”

“Yep. Stuck actually.” Therese shrugs, looking at Carol’s face with a curious expression. “Had to jiggle the drawer.”

“No kidding,” Carol laughs. She draws her fingers over Therese’s hand and takes the ring. “Let’s see which finger this fits on, shall we?”

“You want to put it on my finger?” Therese asks, offering her hand with a look of amusement.

“Sure.” It’s too big for Therese’s index. “I’m not really one for rings, these days.”

It’s snug on her middle finger. Carol tries it on Therese’s right ring finger, and it fits nicely.

“There.” She kisses the band, warm lips against Therese’s palm.

Therese smiles. “Are you giving it to me then?”

“I won’t wear it.” She shrugs, lips ghosting over Therese’s hand. “Besides I kind of like you wearing things that were mine.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Carol leans in and kisses Therese sweetly, pulling a bubble of laughter from Therese’s chest.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Carol says.

“I’m glad I’m here,” Therese mirrors, slipping away to take her jewelry bag and put her accessories into the drawer. “I never could have expected the playroom would set Rindy to crying.”

“I was halfway there.” Carol steps over to her suitcase and picks up a shirt, making quick work of folding it. “All those toys are incredible, I’m making a point to work with the companies to donate or make partnerships with schools because they’re such good quality and foster creative play.”

“Those blocks made me want to build a castle, to be honest,” Therese says, a whimsical smile crinkling her face as she steps over to the closet, drawing aside the curtain and taking an armful down.

“Rindy will take advantage of that. She’d love your help.”

“I don’t doubt it. Does she like playing by herself?” Therese asks, bringing the hangers over to the bed and beginning to drape some of her other clothes over them.

“She’s good with that, yeah.” Carol nods. “I’ll get ensconced with some work project and realize I haven’t checked on her in a while but there she is with her stuffed animals or a puzzle, content as can be.”

“She’s a curious kid.” Therese hangs up a few things and returns to the bed. “Observant.”

“Very,” Carol agrees. “Always happy to read or be read to, really understands how and when I can give her my unconditional attention.”

“You communicate well with her, though. I think that’s part of it.” Therese watches her fold a sweater with concentration.

“She’s my little gift, I would have felt very lost without her. Having her made my priorities much clearer.”

“Did you get back on the right path?” Therese asks, continuing the metaphor.

Carol laughs. “Yes. I reoriented the destination, but— you know, the journey is half the experience.”

“It sure is,” Therese says, glancing down at the pretty ring on her finger. “It sure is.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

The morning comes sooner than she expects, but Therese does not feel unrested. Carol continues to sleep soundly beside her, with an arm slung over Therese’s middle and her head on the pillow very close to being nestled against Therese’s neck. She turns her head and presses a slight kiss to Carol’s cheek before carefully extricating herself from the bed.

With nature calling she heads to the washroom, going about her usual routine before emerging looking marginally more refreshed. It’s nice to watch Carol still resting easy after she has washed her face and brushed her hair, as well as having taken the opportunity to kill her morning mouth with some mouth-wash. Feeling slightly more human, she pads sock-footed across the room, grabbing a sweater before making her way from the bedroom. She leaves the door slightly ajar.

On the second floor, she hears a quiet murmuring and peeks into Rindy’s playroom. She has a line of stuffed animals in front of her and the wooden doctor’s kit on the floor beside her. She has the stethoscope around her neck and is wrapping a play bandage around the foot of a knitted rabbit.

“You’ll be O-K in two days.” She says softly, pressing a little kiss to the rabbit’s head. “You just rest.”

Therese smiles, watching Rindy pick up the next toy. It’s an otter this time. She presses a thermometer against its mouth and puts a concerned expression on her face.

“This is a colossal fever!” Rindy announces, raising her voice just a bit. “You need me-s _i-din_ right away!”

“What kind of _me-di-sin_ does the otter need?” Therese asks gently, and Rindy looks over at her with big eyes.

“Hi Terry!” She grins. “I think Ty—Tynel—Tylenol.”

Therese steps into the room, coming to sit next to Rindy. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

“Is Mumma up?” Rindy asks, holding the otter on her lap.

Therese shakes her head. “No, just me. Can I help you with something?”

Rindy considers the offer. “I’m hungry.”

“Do you remember what we bought at the store yesterday?”

Her whole face lights up.

“Bagels! And cream cheese!” She sets the otter down and bounds over to Therese in her pajamas and clutches the hem of her sweater. “Can we go make bagels?”

“Yes we can. I’m going to make tea too.”

“Esselent!” Rindy slips out of the playroom and heads for the stairs ahead of Therese.

When Therese catches up, Rindy is standing on her step stool, an interesting contraption with handles and a sturdy fabric fall-proof guard on the back, pulling a blueberry bagel out of one of the plastic bags.

“Are you picking that one?” Therese asks, finding a cutting board among the kitchen supplies and placing it down on the counter.

“Uh huh.” She hands it to Therese who slides a bread knife out of the holder and carefully slices the bagel in half.

“Here,” Therese says, handing the halves to Rindy. “Put that in the toaster— do you know what buttons to press?”

“Yes.” Rindy reaches over and puts each slice in a slot. “I gotta turn the knob to the bagel setting.”

“Exactly.” Therese lets her do that, and grabs the kettle and fills it with water before setting it to boil.

They make two more bagels, and get a sippy cup and two mugs ready for the tea, filling them all with tea and honey and an ice cube for Rindy— which makes a SNAP and CRACK noise when the hot water is poured over it. They make a good team.

Rindy climbs onto her chair, and Therese puts the plates down.

“Wow— isn’t this a lovely sight.”

Carol hovers near the entry to the kitchen and warm smile on her face. She’s wearing a long knit cardigan. Her cheeks are pink as though she’d just washed her face with warm water.

“Mumma!” Rindy says delightedly, and Carol goes to her and presses a big kiss to her cheek.

“Morning baby.” She murmurs and strokes her hand over Rindy’s hair.

“Terry and I made bagels for you!”

“They smell great.” She steps over to Therese, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and kissing her softly. Therese laughs.

“G’morning.” She nudges Carol’s forehead with her own. “Sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.” Carol sits down, and Therese brings all of their tea to the table.

Rindy picks up her bagel half and chomps into it, getting cream cheese on her face immediately. Therese watches Carol— watching her nose crinkle in amusement when she sees her daughter enthusiastically and messily eat her breakfast.

“You have a cream cheese beard,” Carol tells her, miming her index finger in a circle around her mouth.

Rindy shrugs, still chewing.

“We can wipe her face when she’s done. No use in cleaning a face that will just get all messy again, right?” Therese asks, picking up her tea and blowing on its steaming surface.

“Right,” Carol agrees.

“Right,” Rindy adds with her mouth still full of bagel.

Therese takes a sip of her tea, it is warm and just sweet enough. She gives a soft hum.

Carol picks up her own bagel and takes a bite, managing to keep her own face clean.

The three of them eat and drink in silence for the next few minutes until Rindy asks for a napkin and Carol passes her one, at which point the little girl dissolved into giggles when she sees that Therese herself has a cream cheese beard.

“Oops!” Therese laughs, swiping the cream cheese off her top lip with her finger before licking it clean.

“Mumma hasn’t gotten any on her face!” Rindy sounds impressed.

“You’re allowed to be messy at home,” Carol says. “You’ll learn how to stay clean as you get older.”

“You can teach me how though,” Rindy says, and waits for her mother to nod. “I’ll practice if you teach me.”

“Okay, pick up your other bagel half,” Carol instructs. Rindy does so. “Now try to bite it… like— hm…”

Carol picks up and takes a bite of her own bagel, cleanly as she’d intended. Rindy mimics her but she gets cream cheese on her face again.

“Your mouth is smaller than your mumma’s,” Therese says. “If you cut the bagel into smaller pieces you might be able to do it.”

Rindy considers her bagel as she chews and then shrugs.

“I am allowed to be messy at home,” she says when she finishes chewing, and then takes another bite.

Carol takes her empty plate to the sink and goes over to the French doors. She opens the curtains and looks outside. From the table, Therese hears her give a laugh.

“Would you look at that!” Carol says a hint of mirth in her voice.

“What what?” Rindy slips out of her chair and pads over to her mother.

Therese gets up too, and Carol opens the curtains a little more.

“We seem to have a little homemade ice rink out there.”

Rindy gasps, placing her hand flat against the glass and peering out into the big back yard.

“Do we have skates?”

“I’ll have to check.”

“I wanna play outside after we’re done cleaning up breakfast,” Rindy announces.

“Can you give your tummy half an hour to settle before we go outside?” Carol asks.

“Oh, okay,” Rindy sighs. “Can I go back to my playroom after I put my place on the counter?”

“You go ahead now, I’ll get the plates,” Carol replies.

“Really?” Rindy asks.

“Really.”

Rindy doesn’t ask again, taking her sippy cup of tea with her as she goes.

Therese slips in closer to Carol and leans her head against her shoulder. Carol wraps her arm around Therese’s middle.

“That’s a nice back yard,” Therese says.

“I love it in the summer.” Her thoughts are elsewhere. “We have outdoor furniture stored in that shed over there, we can have a nice fire and roast marshmallows. Avoid getting big bites with citronella torches. Watch the sky.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah. Did that with Rindy and Abby last year,” she laughs. “That was Rindy’s first experience with marshmallows.”

“I bet she loved it.”

Carol nods.

“There was a park under construction the last time we were here. We should visit it if it’s finished.”

“How about we make that a tomorrow outing?” Therese proposes.

“Good idea. We can go for an hour or so, then maybe head to the mall for lunch—then some shopping?”

“Okay.”

Carol gives Therese a light squeeze. “I should give you the wifi password.”

“Oh?” It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be wifi here. “Sure.”

“You need to keep track of your art orders right?” Carol steps away from the French windows, Therese turns.

“Right. It’s still early, I haven’t been without internet long enough to worry about it.”

“I’ll wash up, how about—”

“Terry!” Rindy calls from upstairs.

“Yes?”

“I need a doctor assistant for the aminals!”

Therese glances at Carol who has already started to clean the dishes. She gives Therese a big grin.

“Wouldn’t want to keep the doctor waiting— go ahead I’ll join you when I’m done.”

Therese gives a breath of a laugh. “Okay.” She gives Carol a quick kiss before she heads toward the stairs.

“I’m coming, Rindy!”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for your commitment to this story. I would love to hear from you and your comments are truly a joy to receive. 
> 
> You can keep up with me on my tumblr which is now temporarily @ BRIELARSONSBICEPS but I may be returning to the url @ LOUISEMILLER eventually so I may as well leave both usernames here !


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one dragged for me! I think I'm anticipating writing chapter 17 and 18 so everything else has been more difficult.  
> I have finished my first year of University and I was accepted to the Creative Writing program! It will still be a few weeks before I get my grades but I feel pretty confident about the work I did.
> 
> This is largely unedited because I don't have the patience and I crave quick validation. 
> 
> Enjoy your read!

“Five more minutes and we’re going to lunch!” Carol calls after checking her watch. She looks up at Rindy running across the little bridge between the structures toward Therese who had climbed up the other side.

“Okay!” Therese and Rindy chime in unison, and Rindy bursts into giggles, running into Therese’s outstretched arms.

Carol jogs over to the other side of the big loopy slide, and Rindy goes down the two stairs to the next platform and sits down on the slide, her snowsuit is teal and she has a little grey beanie with a matching teal pompom.

“Are you ready to catch me?” Rindy calls down.

“Yes, I’m ready!”

“Go go go!” Therese encourages and Rindy pushes herself down the slide, giving a squeal as she goes.

Carol scoops Rindy into her arms and spins her around as Therese watches from above.

“Gotcha!” Carol chirps and kisses Rindy’s cheeks.

“Down, down! It’s Terry’s turn!”

Carol puts Rindy down and she hops to the side, looking back up at Therese.

“Are you ready?” Rindy calls up.

“I sure am!” Therese replies and slides down as well. While Carol doesn’t quite catch her, she does encircle Therese in a playful hug when she hops off the slide.

Therese kisses Carol chastely, and Carol laughs and peppers kisses to Therese’s rosy cheeks. Rindy giggles and the two women part.  Therese laughs and scoops Rindy up, starting toward the parking lot.

“I’m hungry!” Therese announces. “Let’s go to the mall.”

“I will need my snowsuit off,” Rindy says, and the car beeps as the three of them approach. “I’ll be too hot with it on.”

“Okay, we’ll get right on that,” Therese says and Carol opens the back of the car.

Therese plops Rindy in the back, who fishes off her mittens and gets her little fingers around the zipper of her snowsuit. She unzips it with ease and shrugs out of it. She sits down and holds up a booted foot.

“Off please!”

“Yes ma’am.” Therese tugs off Rindy’s boots and lets her wiggle the rest of the way out of her snowsuit. She masterfully folds the seat down and climbs into the back seat. Therese quickly folds the snowsuit into a linen shopping bag and leaves Rindy’s boots next to the bag. She shuts the trunk door and goes around to the passenger seat. Carol quickly buckles Rindy into her car seat before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive takes about twenty-five minutes, and they pull into the underground parking garage of the small without any interrupts.

“I need my shoes,” Rindy says as Therese volunteers to unbuckle her.

“I got ‘em,” Carol says, and hands them to Therese.

Therese helps Rindy out of the car, she makes a face.

“Smells funny.”

“You’re right,” Carol agrees. “That’s not a very nice smell.”

Therese gives a sniff and coughs once. “Yeah smells burnt.”

“Maybe someone had engine trouble.”

“A engine can burn?” Rindy asks, and take Carol’s had as they head toward the entrance of the mall.

“Yep, if something breaks inside it can catch fire and burn,” Carol explains. “But that’s why the car gets checkups like you with the doctor.”

“But I won’t burn if something breaks in me.” Rindy shakes her head.

Therese laughs. “I certainly hope not!”

Rindy gasps. “What about a fever? That’s burning! But— but— but a fever doesn’t mean I’m broken, right?”

“No,” Carol says with a laugh. “It means your immune system is kicking germs in the butt!”

“Oh— I like that lots better!” Rindy lets go of Carol’s hand and karate chops the hair with a quiet, “Hi-ya!”

 

~*~*~*~*

 

Therese and Carol walk with Rindy between them, holding onto a bright red smoothie with two hands. The mall is not especially busy, but there is a healthy bustle of people and no shortage of Boxing Week Specials.

There are parents with strollers, kids clutching shopping bags half their size, dads and moms alike carrying infants strapped to their chests or backs, and even the occasional dog. There are also sandwich boards advertising events going on in the mall, one of which catches Therese’s eye.

“Carol—” she says, pointing, and Carol looks.

The sign it for a Big and Small petting zoo on the opposite side of the mall.

“Look at that!” Rindy exclaims with a squeal, rushing over to a shop display and pressing one of her hands to the glass. “Terry look! It’s just like yours!”

A fuzzy jacket, a soft beige-y brown, on a child-sized mannequin.

“I could be so many animals…” Rindy says, almost a whisper. “I wou’only need headband ears!”

“Do you wanna go try it on?” Therese asks, dropping to one knee to get on Rindy’s level.

“Yes.” Rindy takes the big straw and sucks a few more mouthfuls of smoothie up.

“Not too fast— you’ll get a frozen headache!” Carol warns.

Rindy thrusts the nearly empty cup toward her mother. “Too late,” Rindy groans, pressing a hand against her face as she grimaces. Carol and Therese both laugh.

“You get a head start, I need to find a trash can.”

“Okay.” Therese takes Rindy’s hand and they head into the store, looking around for the jackets.

“There!” Rindy says, pointing.

There are a few different colours, black, dark brown, light brown, caramel, beige and white.

“Which colour do you want, kiddo?” Therese asks.

“The one like yours,” she says decisively, and Therese takes one down for her, lining it up against Rindy’s body, assessing the size she would need.

“She’s a 3t or a 4t depending on the brand,” Carol says, catching up to them.

“Ah, good to know.” Therese puts the 5t jacket back and finds a 4t. “Rindy let's try this.” Therese kneels again and Rindy bouncily turns so that Therese can help her fit the sleeves on her arms.

“Not bad,” Carol laughs, watching Rindy pet the soft fabric. “Try it zipped up.”

“Terry will you zip it?” Rindy asks, facing her and holding the two sides for Therese.

“I sure will,” Therese agrees, and deftly slips the zipper into place before bringing it up and up until it’s fully zipped.

Carol tugs at the hem and at the sleeves, making sure it isn’t too tight.

“I like it,” she concludes. “You have to take it off now, so we can buy it.”

“You’re gonna buy it!?” Rindy cries, bouncing in place.

“Yep, I think you’re right about how many animals you could be with it.”

“Thank you! Thank you!” Rindy is so bouncy that Therese starts laughing as she tries to undo the zipper.

“Tell me about what animals you’d dress up as in this,” Therese asks and hands the jacket to Carol.

They head toward the cash together.

“Uh—uh… a bear, and a doggy, and rabbit, and dear, and— and a lion, and a wolf, and and maybe a kitty, and a sheep and a monkey…”

They’re back to strolling the stores within a few minutes, with Rindy now wearing the fuzzy unzipped distractedly stroking it as they go along.

Therese’s attention is drawn to a lingerie store, drawn to two sets on mannequins in beautifully rich colours. Gold satin, a deep blue lace…

“You should go pick something out,” Carol says lowly, just for Therese.

They’d stopped outside a bookstore and Rindy was a few paces away looking at the books on the display closest to the entrance.

Therese feels her cheeks burn and fails to suppress a smile.

“I just thought the colours were pretty—”

“Go on…” Carol coaxes with a sly smile. “My treat.”

“Carol.” Therese isn’t sure how to react.

“I know for a fact those colours would look breathtaking on you,” she not-so-subtly gives Therese an up and down, and Therese absolutely knows Carol is imagining her in something racy.

“Just give me whatever’s left over,” Carol says, giving her a deep look. Therese feels a little tug at her coat pocket and knows Carol has slipped some paper money in there.

Therese would have very much liked to kiss her then. Instead, she catches Carol’s hand and gives it a slight squeeze.

“We’ll be looking at books.”

“I won’t be too long.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Can you read the sign, Rindy?” Carol asks as they approach the far end of the mall. A section has been cordoned off and a fence has been put up.

“Big and small cre-a-tuh-rrs — creatures!”

Therese has a bag on her arm, with some lovely unmentionables packed away inside a decorative box. The sale had been a good one and she’d gotten to sets. She had balked at the two-hundred dollars Carol had slipped into her pocket. The lingerie had been steeply discounted and she’d gotten an extra discount on a scratch-off card so her total had been under seventy dollars.

“Animals are already big and small, that’s just how animals work.” They aren’t close enough for Rindy see yet, but the petting zoo is showing some specific animals for a specific purpose.

“How big do you think a rabbit is?” Therese asks, and Rindy makes a thinking face. She holds out her arms to demonstrate the size of about a foot.

“Look at that pen, sweetie.” Carol points and Rindy walks ahead of them, stooping to see inside.

“That’s not _real_!” she exclaims, leaning in as close as she can.

A petting zoo employee steps over to the cage and pets the head of a very large rabbit. “He’s real alright.”

“No. Way. It’s as big as me!”

The employee laughs. “Yep, he’s a Flemish Rabbit, they can grow to be about three feet long.” She gets up and goes to a sectioned off part of the pen. “But— come on over—” she waves for Rindy to follow, “— we also have these little guys too.”

Rindy’s mouth pops open into a little O shape when the employee holds up a rabbit that fits in her cupped palms.

“It isn’t a baby?” Rindy asks.

“No, it’s a Netherlands Dwarf Rabbit— do you wanna hold her?”

Rindy looks over at Carol and Therese. “Uuuhh…” She looks at the little rabbit. “Terry! Could you hold it please! I just want to pet it.”

Therese laughs and hands her bag to Carol going over to Rindy. She cups her hands and accepts the rabbit from the employee nice and easy.

“She so soft,” Therese says mournfully, stroking the bunny gently with her index and middle finger. She gets down to Rindy’s level and guides Rindy’s hand over the little rabbit until she’s confident enough to do it herself.

They give the rabbit back after a few minutes, and the employee returns with two brochures.

“We’re here on behalf of the Bio-Museum,” she explains. “We have a larger exhibit open with other animals that wouldn’t do well at a mall.”

Therese takes the brochures.

“Like what?” Rindy asks.

“Like bears!” The employee replies. “And pigs and cows and horses.” She pretends to think. “Bats, and bugs, and frogs, and fish.” She hums, smiling at the look of utter intrigue on Rindy’s face. “And deer, and kangaroos, and wild cats.”

“Wow.” Rindy sighs. “Wow.”

Carol laughs, and thanks the employee, letting her get back to her work.

“Do you wanna go to the museum?” Therese asks, taking her bag back from Carol.

“Yes.” Rindy seems to be thinking.

“What’s on your mind?” Therese nudges Rindy and she giggles.

“The animals being big and small isn’t a trick?”

Carol lets out a breath of a laugh. “No, baby, it’s not a trick. Some types of animals just grow bigger, that’s all.”

“But cows are always big, and so are horses…” She places her hand on her forehead uncomprehending.

“I guess we’ll see small versions!” Carol insists.

Rindy frowns.

“How about this,” Therese tries, “You know pet dogs right? They can be taller than me!”

“What!” Rindy doesn’t believe her.

“Okay okay, I’ll show you a picture.” They stop at a bench and Therese searches up a picture.

“Oh boy that’s a big dog,” Rindy deadpans.

“Aaand,” Therese continues, “You’ve got all the other dog-sizes until you get…” she searches another photo, and shows Rindy again, and she laughs.

“So they’re all still dogs…” Carol says.

“Just bigger and smaller,” Rindy concludes.

“So we have to go see the animals?” Carol confirms.

“Oh yes,” Rindy says. “I hafta see them big and small! — and you gotta take pictures so I can show my friends at music group.”

“Don’t worry kiddo, we’ll take pictures,” Therese reassures.

They start heading back through the mall.

Rindy shakes her head. “Just how _big_ could a _frog_ get?”

 

~*~*~*~

 

The rest of the afternoon and calm and functional. Therese spends some time on her laptop, putting an update on her website, writing out an e-mail for her newsletter, and answering order emails; all informing potential customers that due to personal circumstances, any orders would be put on hold, but that orders could be claimed and customers would be informed when shipments could be fulfilled again. She had given herself two weeks, but she didn’t know what this video leak meant for her.

Neither she nor Carol has really looked at social media, what with the buzz and the comments, and the articles cropping up as everyone and their dad’s best friend wanted to get their two cents in about Carol Aird’s leaked sex tape. Therese hadn’t been identified as the other woman, yet, and she keeps wondering to herself what that means. If the tape isn’t clear enough to show it’s her or if people who knew her had just kept her safe.

Therese thinks about rick, who has watched the video, who has said some very mean things to her, but who apparently hadn’t leaked her name to the press. No matter how she felt about him at the moment she was glad for that.

Even if no one leaked the information, by tomorrow the AIRD magazine would hit the shelves of thousands of locations, and the behind the scenes exposé would be published on the AIRD website. Pictures of her with Carol would be available for the world to see and people would quickly start making connections and figure it all out.

Carol let Therese get all her work done, playing with Rindy for a while and then letting Rindy play on her own to get some work of her own done. It’s pleasantly quiet between the two of them, only the sounds of typing and breathing, and the murmur of Rindy’s voice from the playroom.

They finally take a break and make dinner, the who ordeal sober and comfortable.

Carol promises to let Rindy stay up as late as she wants for New Year's Eve, and she insists on a movie that they all watch together with hot chocolate. She made it to nine O’Clock before falling asleep with her head on Therese’s lap. Therese insists on carrying Rindy to bed, not wanting Carol to strain her wrist. Carol takes over and tucks Rindy in, and Therese heads over to the door.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispers.

“Meet you back downstairs?”

Therese nods. “Yeah.”

Therese slips into the bedroom, closing the door behind her and heads over to the washroom.

Over a few minutes, Therese undresses and washes up with a cloth and wets her brush to pull it through her hair until its wavy and shiny. She rubs a softly scented lotion onto her feet, and then pulls a bottle of rose water out of her toiletries bag and sprays herself thoroughly from neck to knees. Therese still has hickeys on her body and she admires them before pulling the black delicates washing bag she’d tossed in with a small load of laundry when they’d gotten back. The bag’s contents had been dried on the lowest heat setting, and now Therese reaches inside and withdraws the lingerie she’d bought earlier that day.

Rich blue lace, a beautiful floral design. She steps into the bottoms, smiling appreciatively at the way it hugs the curve of her ass when she pulls them up to her hips. In quick succession Therese puts the bra on, leaning forward to scoop her breasts into the cups. She looks at herself, smoothing her hands down her sides, and canting her head to the side extending her still hickey covered neck.

Therese musses her hair, letting the naturally dark, wavy locks fall over her shoulders.

She sighs and slips on a shiny black robe that she’d borrowed from Carol’s side of the closet. She ties the sash in a tidy bow, and pours some mouthwash into a glass and swishes it around in her mouth, leaning her head back to gargle before spitting it into the sink. Therese wipes her face with another warm washcloth and sprays more rose water over her face.

Therese turns off the light and steps into the bedroom, she can hear Carol moving around downstairs. She steps over to the stairs and slowly descends until she can see Carol.

“Carol,” Therese calls tentatively.

“Yes?”

“Would you close your eyes for me?”

She hears Carol laugh and watches her cover her eyes with her hands.

Therese descends the rest of the stairs and slowly walks over to Carol. The robe brushes against the tops of her thighs, and she comes to a stop behind her taking a deep breath.

“Okay.”

Carol turns around, keeping her eyes closed until she’s facing Therese. She opens them, raising a curious brow.

“I like seeing you in my clothes,” she says, stepping closer and drawing her finger over the fabric of the robe.

Therese smiles nervously and brushes some hair behind her ear. “I think you’ll like what’s underneath too.”

“You think?”

“You’ll have to untie my robe to find out.” Therese lets Carol take a step closer, and feels her take a deep breath.

“You smell amazing.” She brings up a hand and brushes some of Therese’s hair out of her face and leans in, taking a deep breath of her neck, drawing her nose against her jaw.

Therese shudders and feels Carol’s hand find the sash of the robe, easily undoing it and letting the robe fall open to reveal the lingerie set.

“Wow,” Carol breathes, stepping back and taking a good look at Therese. “This colour looks amazing on you.”

Therese’s cheeks colour. “You like it?”

“You look beautiful.” Carol steps closer, taking Therese’s face between her hands and stroking her cheeks. “You’re so beautiful.”

Carol leans in and kisses Therese slowly but firmly, and Therese brings her hands up to Carol’s waist.

In a moment of pause, Carol leans her forehead against Therese’s.

“I love you,” Therese says in a murmur. “You don—”

“I love you too,” Carol promises.

Therese closes her eyes, a flicker of a smile on her lips, which Carol quickly kisses again.

“Do you want to unwrap your present?” Therese asks with a little smile.

“Shall we take this to our room?” Carol replies.

Therese nods.

Carol smiles and motions for Therese to go ahead, before turning off the kitchen lights and following Therese toward the stairs.

Therese climbs the stairs slowly, knowing Carol would be able to see to the very tops of her thighs and maybe even the curve of her ass under the robe.

They don’t say anything until the door is shut behind them. Once it is, Carol gently slips the robe off of Therese’s shoulders and drapes it over a chair, quietly appreciating the way the colour of the lingerie looks against Therese’s skin.

“You’ll only have worn it for a few minutes,” Carol says, stepping back over to Therese and hooking her fingers over the band of the panties.

Therese smiles. “I have an idea that’ll get me a little more mileage out of them.”

“Tell me.”

“May I go down on you?”

Carol grins. “You may.”

Therese’s cheeks colour and she smiles embarrassedly, “I can’t promise I’ll be any good.”

“You were wonderful the first time,” Carol reminds her. “I want you to feel confident with this.”

“Can’t get good at it if I don’t practice right?”

“Right.”

Therese reaches out and takes the edges of Carol’s shirt, helping it over her head with ease. The hickeys she’d given Carol their first time together are a little paler now, but she can still retrace the passion with her eyes.

Carol undoes her own bra and tosses it over at a chair, standing before Therese bare from neck to hips.

“Y’know I hadn’t seen you completely shirtless until now.” Therese steps closer, reaching up to gently caress Carol’s breasts and leans up to kiss her slowly. She feels Carol smile against her lips and Therese can’t help but grin. “They’re beautiful.”

“I haven’t heard someone say that in a while,” Carol admits.

“You’re incredible, it’s unfathomable to me that anyone would neglect to remind you of that at every possible opportunity.”

Carol laughs softly. “How did I get so lucky with you?”

“I’ve asked myself that every day since I met you.”

“I have something that might make this easier for you,” Carol says, kissing Therese chastely before pulling away and walking over to a little toiletries bag on the dresser. She holds up a little bottle that Therese doesn’t recognize until she joins Carol.

“It’s flavoured lube?”

“Mhm— would you like vanilla bean or pomegranate?”

Therese’s mouth forms a curious little O shape and she steps closer. “Oh— pomegranate. Yeah.”

Carol puts the bottle in her hand back into the kit and takes out another, handing it to Therese.

“I want this to be good for you, I’m not gonna be the person to tell you that vagina tastes like candy.”

Therese makes a face, nodding toward the bed. “It wasn’t _that_ bad when you kissed me after. I found it hot.”

Therese puts the little bottle down, bringing her hands to Carol’s hips and easing her pants and underwear off her hips.

“It was hot. I was pretty thrilled that you wanted me to kiss you so badly.”

“I like kissing you.” Therese stoops and picks up Carol’s discarded clothes and puts them on the nearby chair.

Carol sits on the bed, scooting back to the middle, knees drawn up casually as she watches Therese step over to her.

Therese looks Carol over, cheeks pink and body feeling incredibly warm. She crawls over Carol and picks up the bottle of lube, pumping it three times into her hand. She leans down and kisses Carol, lowering one of her legs before slipping her lube-covered hand over and between Carol’s labia.

Carol sighs against Therese’s mouth, hips lifting against Therese’s touch.

Therese doesn’t waste any time spreading the lube extensively before she begins to kiss her way down Carol’s body, lingering in her favourite spots— her breasts, her stomach, her thighs; kissed and licks and lightly bitten— until Therese parts Carol’s lips with inexperienced but determined fingers and lowers her mouth to Carol’s clitoris.

She feels more than hears Carol moan, and Therese herself lets out a little hum of appreciation at the taste of the lube. She journeys lower, bringing her tongue tentatively inside Carol, before licking up the length of her.

“That does taste really nice,” Therese murmurs, and Carol laughs. Therese decides her best course of action is to simply kiss Carol’s clit, licking and sucking until she feels Carol’s thighs begin to quiver.

“You can suck a little harder—” Carol manages, taking a concentrated deep breath and pressing her head back against the bed.

Therese does as she’s told, earning herself a gasp and a moan. She runs her tongue over one side of Carol’s clit and she shudders, giving a little cry.

“Keep doing that!” She gasps, and Therese cannot bring herself to deny her.

It’s a steady build-up of whimpers and quivering legs, until Carol tenses and goes tense. Therese continues to lick, barely easing up on her ministrations until Carol relaxes.

“Come up here so I can taste you,” Carol mutters, reaching down to slip her hands into Therese’s hair.

“Was I that good?” Therese asks cheekily, crawling back over Carol and kissing her. Carol sucks on Therese’s bottom lip, giving a contented hum.

“You were good.” She laughs. “You’re a quick learner.”

“I want to make you feel good,” Therese says, and Carol nods.

“I want to make you feel good too— can I have a little fun with your lingerie?”

Therese gives a breath of a laugh. “I’m curious now.”

“Then straddle my thigh and grind yourself on it.”

Therese lets out a heavy breath. “Okay.”

She does as she’s told, tilting her hips against Carol’s thigh until she finds a pleasing angle.

Carol watches her, one hand on Therese’s hip, merely a presence not guiding in any way. Carol feels around on the bed and finds the lube.

Therese gives a little whimper, and Carol smiles.

“Should l I use some lube on you?”

Therese nods, “Please.”

Carol pumps a little onto her fingers and brings her hand low. Therese pauses her movements to allow Carol to slip her hand into her panties and between her legs. Carol makes an appreciative sound deep in her throat as she slips her fingers all to the way inside Therese with utter ease.

“Go on,” Carol encourages, and Therese begins to move her hips again, giving a little moan at the new contact, now grinding herself against Carol’s hand.

Carol makes her own pace with her fingers, pumping two, and then three digits inside her, making Therese’s thighs quiver lightly.

“How’s that feel, baby?” Carol asks, and Therese smiles.

“Really nice—” she manages to reply, a focused little frown knitting her brow.

She finds an angle that has her feeling a coil tightening in her belly with every rut. She whimpers, and Carol presses her fingers knuckles deep inside Therese, which makes her gasp.

“Oh fuck—” She leans over Carol, bracing herself on her forearms, still grinding against her. Her movements are more desperate now, and Carol is able to bring the ball of her hand a little higher against Therese’s clit, curling her fingers inside Therese, who goes immediately stiff and whine as she comes.

Carol turns her head and kisses Therese’s neck and cheeks, using her hand to please her gently until Therese gives a little shudder and relaxes.

“Have I mentioned how cute you are when you come?” Carol murmurs.

“You have,” Therese replies amusedly, turning her head to kiss Carol.

Carol slips her hand from Therese’s panties, bringing her clean hand up to slip into Therese’s hair.

“How much time do we have?” Carol asks.

“Til what?”

“Midnight.”

Therese gives a little hum, looking up to glance at the bedside clock.

“Enough to get cleaned up and prepare a glass of champagne unrushed.”

“I like how that sounds,” Carol says approvingly.

“I thought you might.”

Therese nuzzles her nose against Carol’s and kisses her again, relaxing on top of her while Carol exercises a massaging grip on Therese’s hair.

“We gotta get up if we wanna do that, don’t we?” Carol asks.

“We will, won’t we?” Therese laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments are always appreciated!  
> You can find me on tumblr @ BRIELARSONSBICEPS but I may be returning to @ LOUISEMILLER in May so stay tuned.  
> UPDATE: I would appreciate it if comments could be kept appropriate please. I am thrilled that so many are enjoying my work but please consider what you're saying. I would love to hear what aspects you liked, what dialogue or description stood out, if something made you emotional, or maybe even something that made you laugh. I do enjoy feedback about the love scenes but I'd prefer if such feedback were referring to its place in the story.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote part of this chapter probably around September 2018 (as well as another part that will be in chapter 18) because it was so present in my mind, and dedicated myself to writing all the rest of the fic in order. 
> 
> I don't think you'll expect that happens here, but I do hope you enjoy!

Carol gets a call when they are all getting ready for their outing to the zoo.

It is Carol’s lawyer, requesting that Carol get on a conference call with her agent and him.

“When do you want to do it?” she asks.

“The earliest convenience,” he replies.

“Does Therese need to hear this?”

“No, but I can have Nina email her a transcript if anything comes up.”

Carol hesitates and sighs. “I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

She hangs up, glancing over at Therese who had been watching her in the doorway of the kitchen.

“I have to take a conference call with my agent and my lawyer,” she says.

“We can postpone.” Therese shrugs.

Carol looks past Therese to Rindy, who is waiting next to the day bag they’d already packed. She’s got her fuzzy jacket on and looks very comfortable, and stylish in weather appropriate clothes, in particular, black toddler-sized Chelsea boots and warm washed out maroon coloured pants.

“Why don’t you go ahead, and I’ll catch up with you for lunch?” Carol suggests.

Therese raises a brow. “You’ll miss the exhibit.”

“Not all of it.” She shrugs. “I looked at the brochure, if you do the farm animal section on your own, then I can meet you for the rest.”

“Not a bad idea,” Therese says. “But I can’t drive.”

“Oh, I’ll just call a cab— which reminds me…” she steps past Therese, heading into the entrance.

Carol rifles through a storage box among the well-arranged space and withdraws an item made of grey cushioned fabric, a quadrilateral shape with rounded edges and one wider end and one thinner end, as well as a patch on the middle front.

“You can fit this on the seatbelt since she won’t have her car seat in the taxi.”

Therese takes it and looks it over. “So the belt just goes through it.”

“Yep, the short end goes near the buckle, and this thing is firm enough to keep the belt where it needs to be across Rindy’s chest and waist.”

“Smart.”

“One of the more interesting things I own.” Carol shakes her head, an amused smile on her face. “Like the pancake batter dispenser.”

“Wanna tell Rindy the change of plan?” Therese asks.

“Yeah.” Carol peaks back into the hall. “Min?”

“Yeah Mumma?”

“I have to take a call with Mister Haynes and I don’t know how long it’s going to take. I don’t want to postpone our trip to the zoo, so I have another idea. Do you wanna hear it?”

“Okay.”

“I want to call a taxi and let you and Terry go to the zoo first. You get to see the farm animals and then I’ll meet you to have lunch and we’ll see the rest. How does that sound?”

“You wanted to see the horses though, Mumma,” Rindy frowns. “The tiny and the huge horses.”

“Terry will take pictures, won’t you?” Carol glances up at Therese, who nods emphatically.

“We’ll take so many pictures! Maybe even videos!”

Rindy’s face lights up at that idea.

“So are you okay to go with just Therese for now?” Carol asks.

Rindy nods. “Yes I’m okay.”

“I’m so glad,” Carol says, kneeling down at Rindy’s level and opening her arms. Rindy wraps her arms around Carol’s neck and gives her a big hug.

“How long until the taxi will be here?” Rindy asks, muffled against her mother’s shoulder.

Carol laughs. “I have to call it first. I don’t think it will take more than fifteen minutes.”

Rindy lets go and giggles when Carol kisses her cheek. “Terry should we wait outside for the taxi?”

Therese smiles. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. It’s really nice out.”

Rindy skips over to the entrance and finds a pair of gloves to wear.

“I guess we’ll see you later,” Therese says, turning to Carol.

Carol gives her a chaste kiss. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything important.”

“I know.” Therese nods.

“Don’t forget—”

“Don’t worry, I don’t really want to check social media anyway. You said your agent would let you know if anything began to crop up?”

“She did yeah. No telling how fast the cybersphere will make the connection between the video and the January exposé photoshoot…”

Therese sighs, running a hand through her hair. “No use in speculating. We’ll ride it out.”

“Yeah.” She doesn’t seem entirely convinced but leans in for another kiss before Therese can say anything else. “I’ll go call the cab,” she says and heads back into the kitchen where she’d left her phone.

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

A visit to the zoo is not exactly a traditional event for the first day of the New Year, but it’s still a big enough crowd to keep Therese on her toes. She hadn’t really ever babysat as a teenager, but she has other friends with young siblings from a parent’s new marriage, younger cousins, the works.

But none of those interactions had mattered until now.

Seeing Rindy so thrilled by the farm animals at the BIG & SMALL exhibit was unlike anything she’d seen before, and seeing the little girl’s joy might be one of her new favourite things.

Rindy stands near a fence that separates her from a pen of very small cows, one of them has its head sticking out between the slats, eating out of a bucket of hay. Therese lifts her camera to her eye, peering through and making the necessary adjustments.

“Are you ready?” Therese asks.

Rindy nods, already posing, arm held out by the little cow’s head, showing that it is not much taller than her. Therese takes the picture.

“One…”

Rindy strikes another pose, pinching her nose and scrunching up her face to demonstrate how stinky the farm section was.

“Two…”

Rindy is about to make another pose, but the little cow has turned its attention to her. Therese captures three perfect photographs of the cow nuzzling Rindy, licking her cheek and Rindy’s subsequent expression of surprise, disgust and amusement.

“Eeeeewwww!” She squeals and runs over to Therese, who is already laughing.

“Wash it off, wash it off!” Rindy is scrunching up her face and a patch of cow saliva glistens on her cheek.

Therese is still giggling when they find a bench and she’s able to fish a wet wipe out of the pack in the day bag.

“Okay don’t move,” Therese says, and swipes the wipe over Rindy’s skin and neck, making sure she’s thoroughly clean.

“Good?” Rindy asks.

“Good.” Therese reaches over and puts the wipe in the trash can.

“What time is it?” Rindy asks.

Therese looks at her watch, it was still a little early and Carol wouldn’t be meeting them for lunch for a while still.

“Eleven forty-five,” Therese answers.

“When did Mumma say she was coming?”

“Noon thirty.”

“Oh.”

“That’s less than an hour away though.”

Rindy perks up a little. “Okay!”

Therese rubs her thumb over Rindy’s cheek. “Are you hungry? Mumma packed a snack in here.”

Rindy shakes her head. “No. Is my water in there?”

“Let me see,” Therese looks through the bag and finds one of Rindy’s sippy cups, she takes it out and hands it to her.

“Thanks.” Rindy brings the cup to her mouth and takes a few big gulps of water.

Therese takes out her own water bottle and sips at it too.

“There are a few more animals left,” Rindy says, handing Therese her sippy cup.

“Yeah, but even if we take pictures I don’t think it will take an hour.”

“We _will_ take pictures,” Rindy says seriously. “For Mumma.”

Therese smiles. “Of course we will, kiddo.”

“I’m ready to see the rest of the animals.”

“Okay.” Therese repacks the day bag and slings it onto her back.

When she stands, Rindy reaches for Therese’s hand, and she is just a little surprised by it.

Down near the rabbits, which Rindy had been thrilled about since she’d met one of them the day before, Therese sees a man kneeling on one knee petting one of the three-foot large Flemish Rabbits.

In front of him and to the left is a pen featuring a tremendously large horse, which is why the ceilings of this exhibit are so high. Therese’s hand twitches for her camera and brings it to her eye.

“What are you taking a picture of?” Rindy asks.

“The big horse,” she replies. “This is a good place to get a picture.”

But she didn’t really intend to take a picture of the horse, not really. Because she recognizes the man near the rabbits. He’s in frame as Therese takes one shot, then another. He looks at her then, right into the camera as she takes a third shot, and she catches a look of panic from him. The horse turns its head and Therese adjusts her position, stepping to the right a few paces. She sees the man relax out of her periphery.

She was sure she’d seem him before…

He is wearing the same hat as from the grocery store.

He is wearing the same jacket as from the laundromat.

Therese takes a deep breath and focuses her attention on Rindy.

“Would you ever wanna sit on a horse that big?” Therese asks, just a bit louder than normal.

Rindy snickers. “It’s _way_   too big.”

“But it’d look so funny seeing such a small person next so such a big horse!” Therese lowers her camera and takes Rindy’s hand.

“I think it’s funnier standing next to the little animals that’re supposed to be big!”

“It is pretty funny,” Therese agrees, no longer comfortable in this section despite the throng of people. She wants to call Carol. “Do you want to check out the gift shop?”

“We still have another room of animals to see.”

Therese sighs. “Let’s do it quick okay? I wanna have enough time to look at the gift shop before we meet Mumma.”

“Did you see the capybara toy in the window when we started the tour?” Rindy asks.

“I did, I also saw the wallaby.” Therese starts guiding them toward the next room.

“That's the tiny kangaroo right?”

“Sure is.”

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

Her phone has become distracting. Therese had left the ringer on in case Carol called but she was getting little pings from her email and buzzes from other apps. She’d tried not to look, to keep her focus on Rindy as they finished the farm animal section and made their way into the gift shop, but the notifications had gotten the better of her and she’d checked.

Fifty-four notifications on her shop, sixty-seven notifications on Instagram, seventy emails.

Therese runs a hand over her hair, feeling a lot more exposed.

She had expected more engagement with her work once the exposé and January cover launched, but with the video scandal, there’s no telling who has or hasn’t already made the connection, especially with the photographs of herself with Carol and GenCarolve.

Therese glances at Rindy, ensconced as she looks at posters of comparisons of big and small animals of the same species. Hearing Carol’s voice would assure her, but she hadn’t texted or called— and based on the time, she could very well already be on the road on her way here.

“Terry c’mon, I wanna see the stuffies!” Rindy takes her hand and pulls Therese along.

She looks toward the front door of the shop. The man she saw earlier hasn’t followed them.

Rindy drops her hand and goes over to the array of stuffed animals, on a few paces away.

Impulsively, Therese thumbs her screen and puts the call through.

It rings, and rings, and rings…

“Hello—?”

“It’s me.” Therese sighs.

She can tell that Carol is driving.

“Hey, I’m on my way.”

Therese swallows. “How was the call?”

“A lot about PR and how Fred hasn’t been able to reach Harge, and what our steps will be about the video.”

“It hasn’t gotten out yet?” she asks it quietly, Rindy far enough away not to notice.

“No, not yet. But the magazine is getting a lot of attention,” she pauses, and Therese can hear the _tick tick tick tick_ of her turn signal. “Why?” Carol asks. “Is something wrong?”

Therese shakes her head. “No. I just have a lot of social media notifications and got a little anxious.”

“We’re gonna get through this. I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”

Therese sighs. “You didn’t drag me into anything, Carol. Someone… someone…” she sighs again, feeling an edge of anger creep up on her.

“I know… I know.” Carol sighs too.

“Do you remember the man I helped up outside the grocery store?” Therese asks.

There’s a slight pause. “Yes.”

“He’s here.”

“At the zoo?” She sounds confused.

“Yeah, I saw him near the rabbits. He noticed.”

Carol’s tone sounds severe. “What are you saying?”

“I— I don’t know. I might just be imagining things, everything that’s happening— it could be nothing…”

“Therese,” Carol says firmly, “just tell me. Plainly.”

“I think he’s been following me. Us.” She lowers her voice some more.

“Is that Mumma?” Rindy asks, voice raised.

Therese nods, giving her a smile.

“Tell her I hope she’s hungry ‘cause the food court smells delicious.”

Therese smiles in spite of her worry. “Did you hear that?”

“I did, yeah,” Carol replies. “Tell her I’m super hungry, will you?”

Therese gives a little wave and Rindy looks at her. “She says she’s _super_ hungry.”

“So am I!”

Therese swallows. “Okay— uh— so, it’s not just the grocery store and here… I think he was at the laundromat the day the video dropped.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Same jacket.”

“Should we cut the day short?” Carol asks.

Therese bites at the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since the rabbits. I don’t want to freak Rindy out or anything.”

“I should call Fred,” Carol’s voice is tight.

“I have a photo.”

“What?” She sounds surprised.

Therese gives a slight laugh. “I got a photo of this huge horse, he was in frame.”

“Can you send it to me?”

Therese gives a slight grunt. “It’s on my camera.”

“I’m not far. Will you come meet me in the parking lot?”

“Yeah— alright. How long?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.” She hangs up.

“I love you too…” Therese whispers to herself, lowering her phone.

She glances over at Rindy who is clutching a forest green floppy eared bunny stuffy, absolutely cracked up amused.

Therese walks over to her.

“What have you got there?”

Rindy holds it up for her to see. “It’s green! It looks like it’s been playing in wet grass!” She snickers.

Therese can’t help but grin. “Mumma wants us to wait for her in the parking lot, are you ready?”

Rindy nods, stroking the bunny’s ears.

“Can I get you the bunny?” Therese asks suddenly, and Rindy’s eyes widen.

“Really?”

Therese nods.

“Please.” Rindy nods, handing the bunny to Therese.

She takes Rindy’s hand and they head over to the cash to pay.

“Do you want to pick a book too?” There is a table with big wide books, said to include information about every big and small animal in the exhibit.

“That way we can show Mumma the animals she missed!” Rindy runs over and carefully takes one off the table.

Rindy walks back over to Therese, but the book is large enough that the little girl needs to hold it with two hands.

“Okay I’m ready.”

 

*~*~*

 

Therese finds herself a little comforted by the presence of the three families waiting for their respective partners to bring their cars around. They’re all filling up the four benches in the waiting area outside the bio-museum. Therese has the day bag in the ground at her feet and the shopping bag clutched on her lap, ensuring that she isn’t taking up any space for anyone.

There are eight kids among the three parents, and if Therese understood correctly, it had taken two minivans to get everyone here.

Rindy and another girl are comparing their toys, the same bunny but different colours. She thinks the other girl is a little older, but even still, Rindy dominates the conversation with her excitement about the tiny cow that licked her face and how that one was only a tiny bit bigger than her, but with the giant cow she was barely even half its leg.

Four cars pull up to the idle zone, two of which are the awaited minivans. Rindy says goodbye to the girl, hovering a few yards away near a handful of statues; a wolf, a deer, a big cat…

One by one the kids are all buckled in and the families leave.

Therese takes a chance to peek at her phone, clutching the plastic bag with Rindy’s book in her free hand as she eases some of her curiosity.

She decides that her shop is the safer bet, and opens the app. There are even more notifications now, and it’s clear to Therese very quickly that almost all her paintings have been claimed, and almost two dozen prints and assorted merchandise.

A man and a boy come out of the museum and get into one of the waiting cars.

Therese feels a small rush of pride at the fact that practically her whole inventory has been claimed in some capacity or another, and has her head swimming with the idea of how many more paintings she would need to make to restock.

“Terry!” Rindy exclaims.

She doesn’t turn around fast enough.

A pungent-sweetness assaults her nose as a soaking wet kerchief is slammed against her mouth and nose. A vice grip has her around the ribs, dragging her toward the waiting car.

All Therese can see is Rindy’s horrified expression, her mouth open in a scream that reaches Therese’s ears seconds too late, out of sync, leaving her swimming in the disorientation of the too-sweet chemicals burning her ability to think down to basic instinct.

Therese throws an elbow back, hitting something that sends a flare of pain up her arm. The grin is loosened enough that she is able to wrench herself free, taking in gulps of clean air as she staggers toward Rindy.

“Go inside!” Therese shrieks, tripping, her head spinning as everything comes back into sync. “Go inside!”

She can hear Rindy’s terrified sobs, and she has to shove the little girl away from her, toward the entrance, feeling as though she were running through molasses— even though she can hear her heart hammering in her ears.

Therese jerks her head around, aware of her assailant behind her.

She hears it before she feels it— an electric crackle. An explosion of pain in her chest that locks her up and has her dropping to her knees.

The man backhands her and she hits the ground hard, still caught up in the shocks, vision going white around the edges.

She can see a woman shouting, grabbing Rindy whose face is red red red as she screams. The green bunny is a few paces away. The woman is dragging Rindy inside—

“Mama!” In some torturous detached way, Rindy’s screams are the last thing Therese hears before all sound is replaced by an overwhelming ringing in her ears.

The pain ends almost as quickly as it began, now just a distinct but poignant ache. Therese lets out a loud groan and feels the pinch of a needle at the side of her neck.

She is dragged by her legs toward the idling car, her vision going hazy and vertigo taking over. She tries to protest but her limbs won’t listen to her.

Therese is unceremoniously lifted and then dumped into the trunk of the car, and then plunged into darkness.

Her face throbs and feels wet, two focal points on her chest burn every time she breathes.

This is the opposite of fighting wakefulness— a fight that inevitably means waking up. This is fighting a sleep that she cannot escape. No amount of desperate effort keeps her awareness from slipping away as the hollow sounds of driving abandon her in the darkness and nothingness of this car’s trunk.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I do appreciate your comments. I'd love to know what parts you enjoyed best, and if any lines were particularly poignant to you!
> 
> You can find me at @ BRIELARSONSBICEPS on tumblr for the time being (my old url was @ LOUISEMILLER).


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted this with the wrong names because I'm simultaneously writing this as the first draft of a novel.   
> I won't be leaving you in suspense much longer, and I hope you enjoy!  
> I can't believe we're already at chapter 18, if all things go to plan this fic will be done in 6 chapters!

The car hits a bump.

The sound of buzzing and an unbearable crawling sensation fill Therese’s heavy mind and pull a whimper from her lips.

Another bump jostles her, sending jarring jolts of bees up her arm and shoulder.

She rolls onto her back, sucking in a deep breath, bringing herself waves of clarity where vertigo and disorientation still linger.

Sounds and physical sensation comes back to her in jolts, the more she breathes and the more the care jostles her.

Her face feels sticky and most of her upper body feels clammy, her chest stings every time she breathes, and a dull ache encompasses her whole body.

The sound of the engine is persistent and hollow from the trunk. Therese flexes her hand and tries to shake out her arm in the limited space. She grimaces through the tingling until she regains some sense of control.

Therese reaches up in the pitch dark, finding the top of the trunk. It’s a soft fabric, and she draws her hand over it. Suddenly the soft fabric breaks off in place of something smooth and slightly slippery.

Duct tape.

She finds an edge and scratches her fingers until she’s able to pry it aside. She is greeted with the light glow of the emergency trunk release.

Another bump jolts her hard enough to hit her head on the floor of the trunk. She cries out, gasping as a flare of pain reverberates through her skull and blips of light flashing before her eyes.

She loses time in her disorientation, so much so that she doesn’t realize they’ve stopped until she smells gasoline.

Therese forces herself to breathe. The smell is focusing, and she finds some precious clarity.

The car shakes lightly, and Therese hears the sound of the gas cap unscrewing, and then the stark hum of gas being pumped into the car.

She hears the distant sound of traffic and a murmur of voices. The car shakes again when the pump is removed. Therese tries to take another deep breath but the gas smell chokes her up, she slams her hand over her mouth as she coughs heavily.

For a few nerve-wracking seconds, she can hear little else but her heart in her ears. But then she hears footsteps recede from the car.

“What the fuck did you do?” She knows that voice, just barely audible. She strains to hear.

“I told you to trust me.” Unfamiliar.

“It’s on the fucking news!”

Hargess.

Therese goes cold.

“I know what I’m doing. Everything you wanted, I’ve accomplished.”

“You’ve made an exhibition of my biggest embarrassment! It’s everywhere!”

“Hey— you hired me for my expertise for your tricky situation, I told you my methods were unorthodox but effective and you trus—”

“You put my ex-wife’s faggot activities on display for the world to see, that is the least unprofessional—”

“Hey— I’m not a bigot, this is work. Lets just cut ties right here if you’re not happy with my methods.”

Therese can’t be sure if they’ve said more. A loud truck blows past yards away and their conversation becomes indistinct. They get closer to the car, she can hear their voices raised, her assailant first, and then Hargess. They’re arguing—

“Whoa whoa! I’ll take care of this no extra charge! You don’t nee—”

A gun goes off twice. Therese hears a body fall limply a few feet from the car.

A woman screams, and then others, a murmur of anxiety.

Therese feels the car shake again as the driver side door is opened and Harge gets in. She feels the ending start, and her hand darts to the emergency trunk release, giving it a tug.

Light assaults her skull as it floods into the trunk. She shoves is further open, but the car has already begun moving, jolting forward and throwing back into the trunk.

She grabs the edge of the trunk and throws her legs out, and then the rest of her.

Her head swims as her legs buckle under her weight, assaulted with the same electric tingling as her arm. Therese catches her roughly, scraping her palms against gasoline stained asphalt.

The car peels out of the gas station and Therese lays eyes on the man who kidnapped her, lying on the ground with a gunshot wound in his chest.

Therese tries to stand, but a wave of vertigo has her stumbling.

Strong hands grip her arms, and she gives a startled jerk, but it is only an older man. In a distant sort of way, she hears him say that his wife is on the phone with the police…

“Do you know how long you were in that car?”

No.

“Wh—What time is…” Therese’s legs buckle again, and the man helps her get over to a bench to sit. His wife hands the phone to her husband and wraps an arm around Therese’s shoulders.

Therese realizes she feels quite cold and starts to shiver.

Hollowly, she hears the woman tell her the time.

“It’s almost five.”

How long had she been out?

“Noon.” Therese’s head aches, and she blinks slowly, trying to focus on breathing.

“What’s your name, honey?” The man asks, still on the phone.

“Therese,” she replies through gritted teeth. Therese lifts a hand to her aching chest and whimpers when she feels the taser dart still stuck in her skin. She whimpers, but like a rush of ice water, she jolts against the woman, and gives a wounded whine.

“Rindy! I was with Rindy!” Therese says shrilly. “Please— I need to call Carol! I need to know if Rindy is okay!” She clutches at the woman’s jacket who tries to speak soothingly.

“Please… please!” She looks over at the man, struck by another bout of vertigo and has to clutch the side of the bench just to maintain some sense of purchase. “I need to know if Rindy is okay…”

The woman and man disappear.

They are replaced by too-bright red and blue flashing lights that make her skull hurt. In their stead are a police officer and a pair of paramedics, who are flashing a penlight in her eye, asking her questions that she thinks she answers, touching her head (it stings) and strapping an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.

Everything is going too fast and too slow all at once.

The paramedics help her walk to the ambulance and strap her onto a gurney, and put a pulse monitor on her finger.

“Try to relax, you’re safe. We’re on the way to the hospital.”

And while she does lie back against the gurney, she does not relax. Through her anxious heart rate and shock-induced shivers, she has gleaned one thing.

It’s been almost five hours since she was outside the museum with Rindy.

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

Despite the insistence by the nurses, Therese hasn’t lain down again since a technician came and scraped under her fingernails and took a swab to her hands. She’s had blood drawn and had IV fluids administered. Other technicians photographed her; the gash on her cheek from being backhanded by a ringed finger, looking much worse than it is from the blood caked from above her brow, down her lips and jaw; the taster darts they’d pulled from her chest, and the bruises they’d left; the slight bruise on her neck from where she’d been stuck with the needle; and a darker bruise on her elbow with which she’d struck her assailant.

They’d cleaned her up and given her two dissolving stitches on her cheek. A nurse had combed Therese’s hair to clean out some of the blood so they could inspect the contusion on her head. They suspected a mild concussion, but they couldn’t be sure until all the drugs wore out of her system.

Therese is left with a throbbing headache that some ibuprofen to take the edge off, and she thinks the glass of water does that better than the pills.

“Do you know if someone called Carol?” Therese asks as a nurse comes in and checks on her again, a pliable ice pack in hand. There are police outside the room, some of whom had wanted a statement as soon as the doctors said she was cleared, but Therese had been adamant that she needed to wait for Carol.

“No, sorry hon— hold this on your head okay?” She gives Therese the ice pack and leaves.

The ice is soothing on the contusion and Therese takes a few deep breaths, trying to will herself to full clarity again.

And then like a vision in slow motion Therese sees Carol and Rindy through the hospital room’s windows. She’s carrying Rindy in her arms, and her makeup is all smudged but all Therese can think is how beautiful she is.

“Terry! Terry!” Rindy screams as soon as Carol appears in the threshold of the door.

That’s when she breaks. Thick tears welling in her and drip down her cheeks, a sob wracks her body. She drops the ice pack on the bed beside her.

Rindy wriggles from Carol’s grasp and bolts over to Therese who scoops her onto her lap with one arm, taking her onto her lap, hugging her desperately, sobbing as she hides her face against Rindy’s hair.

“Oh sweetheart—sweetheart. Are you okay? Are you okay?”

Rindy clings to Therese. “I saw the man take you, Terry,” she says mournfully. “He hurt you.”

“I’m okay,” she breathes, closing her eyes as she holds the little girl in her arms, “I promise, I’m okay.”

Therese opens her eyes, suddenly jolted by Carol’s intense, grief-stricken expression and teary eyes.

“Carol—” Therese chokes out, holding out a hand.

That’s all Carol needs to cross the room and envelope Therese and Rindy in a desperate, clinging hug. She cradles Therese’s head in one hand and lets out a shaky breath before pressing a firm and desperate kiss to Therese’s lips.

Therese gives a shaky sob, keeping a firm grip on Carol’s coat sleeve as she sits next to her on the hospital bed. She leans her head on Carol’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of her again and again until she feels almost dizzy. Not the sick and disoriented kind of dizzy she had felt in the car— no, dizzy with love and comfort.

“I want to go home.” She murmurs. “I want to go home.”

 

 

*~*~*~

 

The gist of Therese’s statement is simple. She was kidnapped by the man the police had apprehended at the gas station— Kris Kabler— he was in the ICU after having had surgery for his gunshot wound. There was a police presence in and outside of his room, and he would go through the booking process when he was recovered. She had been drugged and tasered and struck in the face, and was unconscious in the car for nearly four hours. Then she woke up and realized the car had stopped and she smelled gasoline.

“Harge was there. Arguing with Kabler,” Therese says resignedly. She glances at Rindy who had fallen asleep on the hospital bed beside her. “Harge Foster shot mister Kabler and would have driven off with me if I hadn’t gotten out of the trunk when I did.”

The detective taking her statement nodded.

“He shot the man he hired to scare me,” Therese says gravely. “I don’t know what he would have done if I had stayed in that trunk.”

Carol sits on one of the chairs beside the bed, where Therese now sits cross-legged, holding Therese’s hand. She’d taken a moment to wash off her makeup sometime earlier, but there are still smudges under her eyes where she’s rubbed repeatedly at persistent tears throughout the debrief.

“Will you be able to send the recording of this conversation to my lawyer?” Carol asks, slipping a business card from her purse and handing it to the detective. “I need him to have all this on file so I can make arrangements for our protection.”

“We’ll send everything along, ma’am.” The detective hands the business card to his associate, who tucks it into a leather-bound notebook with a little sleeve at the front inside cover.

“Can you tell us anything about their conversation?” The detective goes on.

Therese shrugs. “I don’t think the intent was to hurt me.” She rubs at her neck, grimacing at the slight sting from her IV. “Besides the obvious I mean.”

“What tells you back?”

“Kabler said that’s what all this was for; to scare me,” she sighs. “Probably to scare me away from Carol.”

“He’s a violently homophobic and narcissistic man. He made it very clear that he doesn’t want Therese around me or Rindy,” Carol glances back at Rindy, reaching out to stroke her hair. Rindy gives a soft mumble.

“We’re doing what we can to find him, but he had some time, and as Therese has told us, it seems that he had a plan,” the detective assures, nodding at Carol.

“What can we do about protection?” Therese asks. The weight of the situation has exhausted her. She just wants a shower. She just wants to sleep.

“We can post a car at your residence overnight, and have regular patrols over the next few nights.”

Carol nods. “Alright.” She balls her right hand into a fist, grimaces at the pain it causes her. “What about when we get back to the city? Is there some kind of protocol for that? Since the— the jurisdictions? The jurisdictions aren’t the same.”

“We can communicate with the nearest precinct and have someone secure your home.”

“He has keys to the house, I don’t know if he has keys to the chalet,” Carol’s voice is pitched with stress.

“He’s armed, who’s to say what state he’s in,” Therese regrets her words, but filtering her feelings for the man who had orchestrated her attack, who had been the man behind the curtain in leaving Rindy alone, and in hurting her— she doesn’t have any more balm for that wound. Carol meets her gaze, and Therese can tell her words had hurt, but what she also sees in Carol’s eyes is recognition, fear,  and guilt. Neither of them knows what Harge is capable of at this point.

“You’ll have to stay in town for a few more days while we conduct our preliminary investigation, after that you’re welcome to stay or go.”

Carol nods. She glances up and waves at the doctor who had been waiting outside the room.

“Will Therese be able to leave soon?” She asks as soon as the doctor approaches.

The doctor gives her an assuring smile. “We can figure that out right away.”

She turns to Therese, taking her stethoscope from around her neck and sliding the earpieces into place. “How are you feeling, Therese?”

“Better, I guess.” She sits up a little straighter letting the doctor listen to her chest.

“Deep breath.”

She takes in a deep, slow breath and lets it out. “My chest still hurts where the darts were, my muscles still feel tight and sore. My head hurts, my face hurts, my elbow hurts.”

The doctor brings the stethoscope to Therese’s back, and they repeat the breathing.

“I’ll just check your eyes and reflexes.”

Therese follows the doctor's simple instructions, and the doctor writes something down on her chart.

“You won’t be alone tonight will you?” The doctor asks.

“No,” Carol replies. “She’s staying with me. And my daughter.”

“Good, even with a mild concussion it is important that Therese’s sleep is monitored.” She turns back to Therese.

“You will be feeling quite tired, which is normal, but you shouldn’t sleep more than eight hours, with someone checking on you every two hours.”

Therese nods. “Alright.”

“Acetaminophen is safest to use for head injuries and should help with your overall body pain. If your pain persists or gets worse you should come back right away.”

“Gotcha,” Therese gives a light laugh. “Thank you.”

“Ice too,” the doctor adds. “For your head and cheek. You should not soak your cheek injury for five days, but blotting it with a damp cloth is fine. You should reapply regular Neosporin ointment on it when you clean it and recover it.”

“We can pick everything up at the pharmacy,” Carol says.

“Is that all?” Therese asks.

The doctor nods. “Yes, a nurse will be by in the next few minutes to finish discharging you.”

“Thank you.” Therese shakes her hand and the doctor leaves.

Carol glances at the detective and his associate. “Anything else?”

“No, we’ll call you if we have any follow up questions.” The detective turns off his recorder.

“We’ll introduce you to the officer who will be posted at your home when they arrive.”

“Okay, thank you.” Carol stands and shakes both of their hands.

They leave, and for the first time in many hours, Therese and Carol are alone.

 

 

*~*~*~*~

 

 

The glow from the storefront inspires a throbbing ache at the back of Therese’s eyes. She closes them and Carol puts a hand on her arm.

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” she assures and gets out of the car.

Therese peeks out through her eyelashes, fingers playing with the sunglasses in her lap. They’re Carol’s, and they’d help make the lights from the cars on the road slightly more tolerable. Therese would have liked to simply close her eyes but somehow that kicked the relatively manageable dizziness up a few notches so she opted for the sunglasses.

She slips them back on and glances into the rearview mirror, spotting Rindy in her car seat. She’d been asleep for most of the drive, but now she stares back at Therese through the reflection, clutching at the green bunny Therese had bought her.

“Hey,” Therese whispers, giving the little girl a smile.

“I dropped the bunny,” Rindy replies, running her hand over its belly. “I dropped it when you pushed me to go back inside the museum.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you.”

Rindy shakes her head. “It wasn’t a bad push.”

“Oh?”

“You were keeping me safe from the bad man,” she says, shrugging.

“I’m sorry anyway,” Therese says, “It’s not fun to be pushed.”

Rindy sighs and looks out the window. “He did more than push you.”

Therese can’t say anything more. She slips the sunglasses back on and gazes at the storefront, trying to make Carol out among the handful of people inside, even at this later hour.

The driver door opens and Therese gives a start, she’d dozed off, and hadn’t seen Carol come back out.

“Okay,” Carol says, “all stocked up.”

“Are we going home now, Mumma?” Rindy asks, fatigue in her voice.

“We sure are baby,” Carol replies, tucking the bag on the floor next to Therese’s feet.

Therese turns her head lazily to the side, giving Carol a small smile.

“You doing alright?” Carol asks.

“As alright as I can be.” Therese gives a slight laugh.

“We’ll be back at the chalet soon,” Carol promises. She starts the car and eases out of her parking space. “Get you cleaned up, get you into bed,” she mumbles to herself glancing at Therese before merging back onto the road.

The drive back is inconsequential and Therese finds herself quite a bit calmer when she sees the front of the chalet. She gets out of her own accord, leaning against the car as Carol unbuckles Rindy and helps her out. She takes deep breaths of the country air, and watches Rindy heads to the door, still clinging anxiously to the stuffed bunny Therese had bought her.

The unmarked police car that had followed them pulls into the driveway, the driver tucking the vehicle up to a hedge, before getting out of the car. The officer is a tall and broad woman, her clothes are casual but professional and Therese thinks she has the sturdy figure of a rugby player.

She had been introduced to them as Therese was being discharged. Her name is Ruth.

“I’ll be here until morning, then change with a colleague.” Ruth approaches, offering an arm to help Therese to the front door, which she accepts.

Carol appears from the back of the car, with the day bag over her shoulder and the plastic bag that had held the book she’d bought.

“Thank you,” Therese says as they make it tome to the door.

Carol unlocks the door and steps inside, setting the bags down on the bench and turning the lights on. She coaxes Rindy inside and helps her take her boots off. Ruth and Carol exchange a few words and Ruth gives her a pager. Therese sits on the bench until Ruth steps back outside after going over the security protocol.

They all go upstairs right away, and Carol makes sure Therese is settled in their room before going to help Rindy get washed up and into her pyjamas.

Therese undresses slowly and looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her complexion is a little grey around the edges and there is still some blood caked in her hair where the gash is in her cheek. That side of her face is rather purple and red— a nasty bruise that would get uglier over the next few days. She has other bruises, not as severe, but her back and shoulders, and her hips and knees are all mottled with purple and brown.

“This is my fault.” Carol wipes are tear-filled eyes.

“It’s not!” Therese snaps, a flood of anger making her head pound. “It’s his fault!” Her voice cracks as she says this, turning around to look at Carol. “It’s _his_ fault, Carol!” Tears drip down her cheeks and she sucks in a sharp breath. With all the might she has in her, Therese jabs at the air. “His fault.” She emphasizes. “Don’t say those things Carol— all of this is on him. His choice!”

Carol shakes her head, swallowing thickly. “I put you in his path.”

“You invited me into your life,” Therese corrects. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“I was weak-willed, you were the first… the first woman to make me feel like _a person_ in so long, I just—”

“Stop.” Therese’s voice is so firm that Carol gives a slight start. Therese softens her expression. “You are _not_ weak-willed. You deserve to be happy, and I am absolutely privileged to be standing here to tell you that you pulled me out of a routine of monotony and into the most passionate and intense two weeks of my entire life!”

Carol shakes her head. “How can you say that?” she squeaks. “When Harge is responsible for that video, for surveilling us, and for having you fucking kidnapped! All to get you away from me and Rindy? You’re covered in bruises, Therese! You have stitches in your face and a mild concussion. He shot the man he hired in broad daylight at a gas station!”

“I know that! I watching him ready to hit you, I listened to him spew vile things about the both of us, I saw how miserable Rindy was with him at goddamn Disney World which is supposed to be the most magical place on Earth!” She makes sure not to raise her voice, anything above a stage whisper makes her head throb. “I will not let him win. I love you, and I love her,” her voice breaks again and her eyes well with renewed tears as she motions vaguely to where Rindy’s room is. “I adore you both so much,” she balls her hand into a fist and holds it against her diaphragm. “That amazing, intelligent, compassionate daughter… and I want so badly to stay part of this. I want to see where we can go and how we can grow. You are the selcouth adventure I could never have anticipated, and I am tired and I am in pain. But I will not let that disgusting man win.”

Carol merely looks at her for a few quiet moments where only their breathing is audible in the small bathroom space. Silent tears drip down her cheeks and eventually, Carol nods.

“I hear you.”

Therese nods.

“Will you let me help you get cleaned up?” She asks.

“I need help.”

So Carol sets her up in the tub, and takes the shower head down, angling it just so to allow herself to spray warm water over Therese’s hair, rinsing a good amount of dried blood out. With the utmost care, Carol rubs conditioner into all of Therese’s care, mindful of the contusion and is able to clear out all the debris and tangles with a comb.

She washes Therese’s back and shoulders and arms and lower legs and lets Therese finish up the rest when Ruth knocks at the front door. It takes Therese a moment to pull the exact information from her memory— that Ruth would make sure all the windows and doors were properly shut and locked before they all called it a night and Ruth returned to her post in the unmarked car outside.

Therese hears them talking quietly as she dresses in something loose and comfortable. When she sits down on the bed, she discovers a little lump and pulls the duvet down to find Rindy curled up in the middle of the bed.

“Didn’t Mumma tuck you in already?” Therese asks, and Rindy nods.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Therese nods, reaching out to stroke her head. “Yeah, me neither.”

“You’re already sharing with Mumma though,” despite how tired she looks her tone is very matter-of-fact.

“How long have you been hiding in here?”

“Since Mumma went downstairs to talk with Ruth.”

They hear Carol’s footsteps on the stairs and in the hall, and soon she appears in the doorway with the pharmacy shopping bag and a tall glass of water in hand. She looks conflicted when she spots Rindy in their bed, but her expression softens into something sympathetic.

“I don’t mind if she sleeps with us,” Therese says.

“I’m too keyed up to keep her in her room anyway,” Carol sighs and comes over to the bed.

She lays out the items, and cracks open a bottle of Muscle Relaxant Tylenol. Therese takes two of the rather large tablets, drinking them down with little difficulty. The rest she isn’t familiar with.

“This ointment will help with the swelling,” Carol explains, gently spreading some cool gel onto Therese’s elbow, and then again on her cheek, careful to avoid the stitches which are already covered with a small bandage.

“Thank you.”

“The Tylenol might make you a bit drowsy, but I’m going to wake you up every two hours per the doctor’s instructions.”

Therese nods, settling back against the pillows. Rindy shifts carefully in the middle of the bed.

She starts dozing off while Carol goes through her own routine. Rindy herself seems to settle, and by the time Carol gets into bed Therese’s headache is ignorable and she’s almost completely asleep. She can feel and hear Carol getting comfortable and hears her murmur something to Rindy.

“I’m going to put a pillow beside you, just so you won’t accidentally knock Terry.”

“Terry needs extra padding.” Rindy’s sleepy response makes her feel warm. is all Therese registers before a willing weight lulls her into a comfortable sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Your comments are greatly appreciated and I'd love to hear what stood out to you like a line of dialogue or snippet of description.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot happens in this chapter. I am extremely proud of myself for getting this far, and for almost catching up to the word count for Camp Nano. I am so close to finishing this journey it is positively thrilling.   
> I wrote this with the name I picked for the "original" version for which this fanfic is acting as a first draft, I did use find and replace to put all the "Carol" character names back where they belong, but some might have slipped through the cracks. I hope your reading won't be impeded by that, nor any grammar issues that may be present as I didn't edit this beyond what Grammarly caught.   
> As always enjoy your read! You're in for quite a ride this chapter.

Despite being roused every few hours during the night by Carol, Therese feels well rested when she finally wakes the next morning. Her body still aches and she craves the comfort of a hot shower, but when she finds her reflection in the bathroom mirror she doesn’t look quite as grey in the face. Her bruise is darker and lower and would stay ugly for a while longer.

Carefully she washes her face with a washcloth, careful to avoid her stitches. The cold water feels nice on her skin, and she holds the cloth against her neck. She brushes her hair, hissing lightly when she brushes over her bruise and going more carefully until her hair is neater.

Therese brushes her teeth and uses some mouthwash, before taking a big drink of cold water. The routine helps her feel a little more human, and she finds the over-the-counter medication on the dresser and takes a combination of body pain Tylenol and Migraine Tylenol to fend off the headache and lingering pain her exposure to would likely bring on.

Before venturing out of the bedroom she grabs a long cardigan and shrugs it on along with some warm socks.

When she gets to the kitchen she finds Carol and Rindy eating breakfast. The smell of food makes her stomach rumble loudly and Carol looks up from her iPad where she’d been reading intently.

“That smells good,” Therese says in greeting and earns herself a smile from Carol.

“Morning Terry!” Rindy says quietly but delightedly and takes a bite of her fingers of toast.

Therese sees that there is still a couple of frying pans on the stove with covers, staying warm.

“Can I serve myself some food?”

“There’s plenty left.” Carol stands and takes a plate down for Therese handing it to her. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.” Therese eagerly scoops some scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon and mixed vegetables onto her plate.

Carol pours her some and stirs in a little honey, bringing it over to Therese’s place at the table.

“How are you feeling?” Carol asks after Therese has taken a few bites of food.

“Better. I took some more Tylenol after I brushed my teeth.” She shrugs, stabbing a piece of sausage with her fork as well as a piece of broccoli.

“Good.” Carol nods. “I’m glad.”

A shrill sound has all of them jumping.

“Oh my god, I forgot—” Carol doesn’t finish her sentence getting out of her seat and rushing into the front hall.

Therese watches her go over to the day bag which just inside the entrance way and take some things out.

“My phone!” Therese exclaims, and Carol brings it over to her. “Oh— my camera.” There’s relief in her expression.

Therese checks her phone and sees dozens of notifications on the home screen as well as 5% battery.

“Can you get my laptop and charging chord, Carol? It’s on the table over there.”

It’s in front of her within moments and Therese is opening the laptop, slipping her SD card out of her camera and into a card port on the side of her computer.

Her phone chirps again.

“My store is sold out,” Therese says, a bit surprised. The whole thing had completely slipped her mind.

“I haven’t been contacted about the video, I don’t know if any connection has been made.” Carol picks at the food on her plate anxiously.

“Will you show Mumma the pictures from the zoo?” Rindy asks.

“I sure will, I just have to find one thing first.”

Therese drags a distracted finger over her phone screen, impulsively finding herself looking through her Instagram notifications.

Therese clears her throat, reading: “From melsmols03: ‘I saw the AIRD magazine exposé and immediately looked you up, your art is so beautiful!” She grins. “Another: Your use of colour is amazing, no wonder AIRD Magazine commissioned you!”

“So far so good then.”

“I don’t think it’ll be too bad when it gets out,” Therese admits. “I— I’m still angry but with everything else that’s happened, it feels so much less… heavy.” She shrugs. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah.” Carol nods. “I’m still worried about it, but the part about _us_ doesn’t scare me.”

Therese opens the SD card’s folder on her computer and finds the most recent ones. Immediately she selects and drags the three photos of the large horse and her kidnapper, Tom Tucker into an email document which she forwards to Carol. The notification chimes when it reaches Carol’s iPad.

Therese closes her laptop and puts it aside, silencing her phone and letting it charge.

“I should call Danny or… someone.” Therese picks up a piece of bacon and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Was the— the kidnapping broadcast on TV?”

“Your name wasn’t released, but yes it was on the news.”

“He shouldn’t be worrying then…” Therese sighs and continues to eat her breakfast, sipping at her tea intermittently.

Rindy finishes her breakfast and slips out of her chair, taking her plate carefully over to the counter.

“Can I go play Mumma?” Rindy asks, coming over to the middle of the table between Carol and Therese.

“Yeah, I’ll come see you in a bit okay?”

“Okay.” She hops over and hugs Carol, and just as quickly hops over to Therese and hugs her too before scurrying off and up the stairs.

Therese looks over at Carol a few times as they finish their meals, but Therese can tell Carol’s thoughts are elsewhere, because she only takes a few bites of her food, and keeps nudging the food around on her plate. She is looking at her iPad, scrolling with one hand and occasionally typing something on the small keyboard attached to it.

“Are you really okay— or were you just saying that for Rindy’s sake?” Carol asks, not looking up.

Therese looks at her for a long time and eventually, Carol looks at her.

“I feel a lot better than I did last night,” Therese says, emphasizing what she had earlier. “I am tired, I am in pain, I’ve got this nasty bruise on my face and persistent concussion headache, but I feel a lot better than I did last night.”

Carol deflates a little. “I’m sorry.”

“She was there, Carol. She saw him hurt me and dump me in that trunk. She knows what a bruise is— we talked about her bruise on Boxing day—” Therese indicates her cheek. “She knows how I got this.”

Carol nods. “I know, I’m sorry. I…” She rubs a hand over her face. “I can’t pretend she’s ignorant about any of this.”

“She understands, maybe not the way we do, but she understands.”

Carol is quiet for a moment. “I was always honest with her about my wrist, he didn’t like that much.”

“What he likes or doesn’t like doesn’t matter anymore,” Therese says.

“I can say it, but it hasn’t quite sunk in yet,” she admits, “I’ve had to  _consider_ him for the last four years, but it’s become so clear that Rindy doesn’t like being with him— and I tried… I tried not to let my resentment bleed into how I talked about him around her… He was never bad to her— he was never bad…” she shuts her eyes, ducking her head.

“Was he ever good though?” Therese asks.

Carol shakes her head. “I had my bad set pretty low— he was never good at listening to her or engaging with her.”

“She told us that,” Therese says, and Carol looks back up at her.

“Yeah, she really did.”

“Have you spoken to his parents?” Therese asks.

“No, I have to call Fred soon, he’ll tell me how to proceed.” Carol stands, taking her plate with her, still half full over to the trash and emptying it out. “We should get some ice on your cheek and head,” Carol says, turning around. “And how about a hot compress for your neck?”

“That sounds nice,” Therese agrees. “Think Rindy would mind if I lounged in her reading nook? There’s enough room.”

Carol smiles. “We can ask her— I think she’ll like that idea. She’s been worried about you.”

“I was worried about her too,” Therese admits. “She’s brave.”

“Why don’t you go upstairs now? I’ll bring everything up in a few minutes.”

Therese nods. “Okay.” She stands and steps over to Carol and gives her a chaste kiss.

“See you in a few minutes.” 

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

For most of the day, Therese rests in the playroom with Rindy. In a proper routine, for half an hour every two hours, Carol makes sure to bring Therese ice for her face and head and renew the hot compress and to top up her Tylenol. Carol stays with them here and there, but spends most of her time downstairs on calls and responding to emails.

Therese ventures out only twice to use the bathroom and returns to the playroom to lie back down. Rindy is an excellent companion, and plays quietly, managing to complete three puzzles by the time Carol comes in with a tray of sandwiches and fruit and warm tea. Carol pulls up a little chair and they all eat lunch together.

“Which puzzles did you do, Min?” Carol asks, craning her neck as she looks over and the corner Rindy had slid her finished puzzles.

“The really colourful reef one,” Rindy counts on her fingers, “and the lion family one, and the suck-uh-lent and flowers one.”

“ _Suck-you-lent_ ,” Carol corrects.

“Succulent,” Rindy repeats, picking up a big grape and popping it into her mouth.

Rindy finishes chewing and swallowing. “M’gonna read to Terry after lunch,” she says.

“Oh,” Therese says with a smile, “that sounds nice.”

“You sure that won’t be too much for you?” Carol asks.

“ _Mhm—_ if anything changes I’ll just rest in our room.”

When they’re done eating Carol brings the tray of plates back downstairs, leaving Rindy to pick out a book and pull up a chair next to where Therese is reclined in the reading nook. They act as a team as Rindy reads, getting through sentences like a champ until she finds a word that she isn’t sure about, which Therese is perfectly happy to help her figure out.

“Spell it out,” Therese suggests and listens to Rindy spell out the word. “M-E-D-I-E-V-A-L.”

“Mid-ee-val,” Therese offers. 

“What’s that?” Rindy asks and Therese laughs.

“In the past, a long long time ago, when knights and kings and swords were around,” Therese explains.

Rindy gives an interested hum. “That sounds cool.”

“I think I saw a toy shield and sword over there,” Therese points to where it hands on the wall.

“Can I be a knight!?” Rindy asks excitedly, and just loud enough to send a jolt of pain through Therese’s skull.

She grimaces and gives a slight grunt— the expression making the injury on her face smart. Her ears ring.

“Sorry,” Rindy whispers.

“It’s okay.” Therese gets to her feet. “Want me to get the shield and sword down?”

Rindy nods.

“Okay— I’m gonna go see your mom for a few minutes and make some more tea. Are you okay to play by yourself for a bit.”

“Uh huh,” Rindy nods.

Therese gets the toy down for Rindy and slips out of the playroom. Her first destination is the bedroom where she finds her vaporizer pen case in one of her bags. She tucks it into the pocket of her sweatpants and makes her way downstairs slow and steadily.

The living room and kitchen area are empty, but Therese can see that the curtains covering the large French doors at the back of the house have been pushed aside. Therese sits on the couch and unzips the case, taking out the pen and clicking it on. While she waits for it to heat up she glances toward the French doors into the back yard outside. She doesn’t see Carol.

Therese stands, stepping over to the window at the front of the house and peering out through the curtains. The unmarked car— or a car is still here, and Therese can see the silhouette of someone move inside the tinted windows. She lets the curtains fall closed, and takes a long and deep pull from her vaporizer. She exhales slowly, letting the cloud billow out in front of her, and heads back to her spot on the couch. Within minutes it helps knock her discomfort down a few notches, much better than the Tylenol she’s been taking. Therese keeps taking pulls off the pen, deep into her lungs, and watching the clouds of her exhalations dissipate above her.

A sob reaches her ears from outside the house and has Therese sitting up, immediately concerned. She stands and crosses over to the French doors, peering out from a different angle. She still can’t see Carol, but she can hear talking now— Carol’s voice thick with emotion. But it doesn’t sound like fear or panic. It sounds like sadness and grief.

Quietly, Therese slides the French door open and steps out onto the back deck in only her wool socks. Her breath comes out in a cloud almost as impressive as the ones she can exhale after a vaporizer pull.

Now she can see Carol, sitting on a patio chair with a thick wool blanket wrapped around her. Her back is to Therese and she can see that she’s wearing headphones clutching her phone. She sniffles loudly and takes a deep breath.

“Fred says it’ll have to be no-contact until Hargess is found,” she says, wiping her hand over her face.

Therese leans against the wall next to the door, bringing the pen to her lips for another pull, listening.

~~[ “Did he say he’d contact Hargess’s parents about the situation?” Abby asks.]~~

“Yes, he told me he’d email me about that call later.”

~~[ “How’s Therese doing?” ]~~

“As well as she can be,” Carol exhales a squeaky sob, covering her eyes with her hand. “Her face is black and blue, Abby. It’s awful, she needed two stitches.”

~~[“You mentioned she had a concussion?” Abby prompts.]~~  Therese exhales slowly, the cloud is even thicker in the cool air. She brings a hand up to her face, gently touching the bruise and gash— its tender.

“A minor one all things considered,” Carol says. “I had to wake her up every few ours to check on her… she’s been resting in the playroom with Rindy.”

~~[”Is she okay? Orchestrating a goddamn kidnapping— putting Rindy at risk!”]~~

“I know— I know— I was so scared, Abby.”

Therese can see Carol shaking, holding back silent sobs.

“There were police cars and an ambulance at the bio-museum when I showed up and I couldn’t reach Therese at all,” Carol explains. “I kept calling, over and over, until I could hear it ringing… I watched a police officer answer it, and that’s when I saw Norinda siting with a paramedic in a shock blanket!”

~~[”That must have been awful, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”]~~

This is the first time Therese has heard any of this, and it drives a wedge deep into her gut. Her eyes sting and she swallows hard.

“She was distraught— crying and clutching this green bunny toy. I called her name and she immediately broke down wailing. It was— it was awful, Abby. I’ve never seen her so upset. She kept muttering over and over ‘the man took Terry the man took Terry’ and I didn’t understand her until a police officer approached me.” Therese can tell she’s crying, voice thick and catching in her throat.

Therese blinks against the tears in her own eyes letting thick ones drip down her cheeks, they’re surprisingly warm.

~~[”So they took you to the police station and…” ]~~

“And five hours later we got th call that Therese escaped.” Carol sighs. “We got a police escort to the hospital she was brought to, and that was the longest three hours of my life.”

The closes her eyes. It hadn’t felt like three hours. She’d still been disoriented from it all. All she knows is that it had felt like a long time, but she doesn’t remember much of the in between stuff.

~~[”When did you hear about Hargess?”]~~

“Pretty quickly thereafter, they briefed me before getting Therese’s statement.”

~~[”Did they go over safety protocols? What are you supposed to do?”]~~

“I’m in touch with a Detective Jareau, I made sure Florence was included. They’re keeping someone at the house considering he’s shot someone.” Therese opens her eyes, glancing at Carol in time to see her shudder. “They haven’t been able to track him, Abby. He’s completely off the grid. I didn’t even think he understood that kind of thing.”

~~[”Have you considered hiding out?”]~~

Carol laughs bitterly. “That’s what this trip was supposed to be. Hide out at the chalet for a week or two… or three… let the investigation into the video get underway…”

~~[”I mean really hide. Somewhere he wouldn’t look.”]~~

“I wouldn’t know where to go Abby. I can’t just drag Therese away from her life, or her work.”

The cold is finally starting to get into Therese’s bones, no longer invigorating her the way it had minutes earlier.

~~[”Maybe you shouldn’t take her then. She’s been injured— he escalated to extreme violence— you don’t know how bad it could have been if she hadn’t gotten away. You could set her up somewhere safe.”]~~

“I’m scared.”

~~[”I know you are. Think about it. He’s desperate now, caught out. Anyone is extremely dangerous when they feel trapped.”]~~

“I need her safe,” Carol says. “I put her in harm’s way.”

Therese forces herself not to speak up, not to repeat what she’d said the night before.  _It’s not your fault, Carol, it’s not your fault._

~~[”You didn’t do this Carol. You fell in love with someone. Love means making hard choices!”]~~

“Do you think he’d hurt Norinda?”

~~[”I don’t know, sweetie. But he’s hurt you, he hurt Therese, he put Rindy at risk, and he’s shot someone. I can’t let you just leave anything to chance.”]~~

“I’m glad I have the no-contact order for his parents. They treat her like a possession, they feel owed a say in how she’s raised.”

Therese steps back over to the door, stepping inside but lingering at the threshold.

~~[”They don’t deserve her, and now with this? They should be ashamed.”]~~

“I need to think about her best interests,” Carol says, an edge of grief to her tone.

~~[”Hire a bodyguard, find a secure apartment. Set Therese up with something similar.”]~~

“You think that’s best?”

~~[”I think proximity to her is a risk for her and you and Rindy.”]~~

“She’s in this, Abby. She’s so dedicated to me and Rindy— so dedicated.”

~~[”I could see that at Christmas. She’s an amazing young woman.”]~~

“She is.” Therese can hear the smile in Carol’s voice.

~~[”Staying together makes you a bigger target. He could hurt Rindy, he could hurt all of you.”]~~

“I love her, Abby. I don’t deserve it at all, but she loves me too. I can’t let him win.”

~~[”Keeping her safe is an act of love, Carol.”]~~

Therese smiles in spite of herself.

“She would choose to stay with us. Every time.” Doubt, so much doubt floods Carol’s voice.

~~[”Artists,” Abby laughs. “So passionate even at their own risk.”]~~

Carol gives a sad laugh, then pauses. “Do me a favour, would you? Start looking up big loft apartments. With good security.”

~~[”I’ll send you some options by tonight.”]~~

Therese shuts the door French door with a light click and steps back over to the kitchen counter and checks the kettle.

The door slides open loudly and makes Therese jump.

Carol steps inside, cheeks red from the cold, the blanket still on her shoulders. Her headphones and phone are clutched in her free hand.

“Sorry— did I scare you?”

“A little— have you been outside?” A small wave of guilt washes over her. Lying to Carol.

“I was talking to Abby, and I needed some air.”

“Your cheeks are really red.” The kettle starts to hiss a little as it gets warmer.

Carol presses a hand to one of her cheeks. “Is there enough water in there for both of us?” She points at the kettle.

“Should be. I’ll make you some tea too?”

“Please.” Carol smiles and looks Therese over.

She reaches out and presses her cold hand against Therese’s injured cheek, she gives a light sigh.

“Cold hands are good for something,” Therese murmurs.

“Is it time for more ice? Are you in pain?” Carol asks and drops her hand.

“Yeah, just about— and no, I got my pen out,” she shakes the pen like a wand, and brings it to her lips for another pull. “It’s actually helping better than the Tylenol, I think I’ll stick to the body pain dose tonight since it helps me sleep.”

“I’m glad it’s helping.”

Therese smiles at her and leans up, giving Carol a quick kiss.

“Go get a sweater or something, I can make us both some tea.”

“Yes ma’am.” Carol chuckles, kissing Therese’s good cheek.

If Therese hadn’t been for her eavesdropping she might not have picked up on the sadness in her eyes.

 

 

*~*~*~*~

 

“I bought something at the mall,” Carol says as soon as they are alone in their room.

There is darkness behind the curtains and blinds, only the moon letting in any light. Rindy had fallen asleep at eight thirty, and they were retiring only an hour later. Therese feels heavy as she sits on the bed and looks at Carol with a raised brow.

“What did you get?” She asks.

Carol smiles. “Bath bombs.”

Therese hums intrigued. “A nice hot bath sounds really nice.”

“Are you comfortable sharing a bath with me?”

Therese nods. “We’ve showered together before.”

“Just checking. I’ll call you when it’s ready?”

“Okay.”

Carol slips out of the room, and Therese hears her moving around in the bathroom. Slowly, she undresses and slips on Carol’s black robe. She finds a hair tie and does her hair up in a bun, high on her head and pads toward the bathroom door.

Carol measures out two cups of Epsom salt from a big jar and spreads it into the tub which is already filling with hot water. She slips the bath bomb out of its cardboard case and sets it on the bench next to the bathtub.

“It’s just about ready,” Carol says, looking over at Therese.

She smiles when she sees Therese in the robe, and leans over to turn off the water.

Therese walks over and dips her hand in before shrugging out of the robe. Carol takes it from her hand hangs it up, and Therese steps into the steamy bath. A low moan leaves her throat when she sinks into the tub.

“That’s amazing,” she says, bringing her knees up to her chest.

Carol undresses too, leaving her clothes on the counter before joining Therese in the bath. The large clawfoot tub easily fits them both, and Carol settles in behind Therese leaning back and framing the brunette with her legs before nudging Therese to lean back against her.

Therese leans her head on Carol’s shoulder and turns to press a kiss to the underside of her jaw.

“I feel like I forget how soft you are and am always pleasantly reminded every time I get to touch you,” Therese murmurs, and feels Carol smile.

“You’re soft too,” Carol replies, running one of her hands over Therese’s tummy. With her free hand, she grabs the bath bomb off the little bench and holds it over the water before carefully dropping it in.

It fizzes immediately, and the water colours light purple. As it dissolves, Therese waves her hand under the water, mixing the bath bomb in with the rest of the water.

“It smells great.” Therese takes a deep breath, taking in the scents of eucalyptus, peppermint and lavender.

“One of my favourites, actually.” Carol dips her hand under the water and wraps her arms around Therese with a reassuring but gentle caress. Therese continues to mix the bath bomb around in the water until the ball has completely dissolved and what remains is some loose lavender and the aromatic essential oils.

Therese lays there breathing it all in, her face nestled into the crook of Carol’s neck. She lightly strokes her fingers over Carol’s thighs, feeling her heartbeat against her cheek. She turns her head, nuzzling her nose against Carol’s neck and breathing deeply. She feels the aromatherapy from the bath bomb in her lungs, like opening up her chest and clearing away the cloud of malaise she’s felt since she woke up in the trunk.

“Can I rub your back?” Carol asks, and Therese finds herself nodding, pressing a kiss to Carol’s neck before sitting forward and drawing her knees up. She leans forward and braces her forehead on her knees. Carol’s hands are warm against Therese’s back and she gives a deep gum when Carol presses her thumbs into sore muscles.

Carol takes her time with Therese fingers firmly rubbing the knots out of Therese’s shoulders and slowly moving down either side of her spine. And while she rubs, Therese sighs and moans, and tries to stifle her whimpers— she hadn’t realized how much she’d needed a good back rub, and Carol certainly wasn’t skimping.

“How does that feel?” Carol asks, hands getting lower still.

“Phenomenal,” Therese replies voice deep and relaxed.

Carol’s hands find Therese’s lower back and work out a knot there with careful diligence. When it seems she’s finished, she pulls Therese back against her but her hands continue to massage her lower back— now closer to her hips and it feels just as good. Carol slips her hands around Therese’s middle still pressing and massaging, but now she is exploring. She draws her hands up Therese’s waist pressing her fingers along her ribs until she finds her breasts and gives a slow and purposeful squeeze to both.

“Is that alright?”

Therese hums, drawing her hands over Carol’s thighs again. “Yes.”

Carol continues, now ducking her head to Therese’s uninjured side and Therese immediately tilts her head to one side, lettings Carol kiss and suck at her neck. A little moan slips off Therese’s tongue, and Carol kisses her. Therese takes one of Carol’s hand off her breast and guides it down her body. Carol stops just below Therese’s belly button, pausing their kiss, and nuzzles her nose against Therese’s.

“You want me?” she asks, a part of her question drowning with doubt.

“Always,” Therese replies.

Carol nudges Therese’s hand aside, taking her time in exploring the treasure trail under Therese’s navel and into the nicely groomed dark hair it leads to. She moves left, fingers dancing over the innermost part of Therese’s thigh somehow finding the ability to massage her there too.

Therese gives a slight sigh, and Carol resumes kissing and sucking at her neck. She takes her time with Therese moving on to the other innermost part of her thigh and massaging there too, which ultimately serves to arouse Therese more than anything else the might have worn or said in this moment.

Finally, her fingers find Therese’s clit, but there is little urgency in the ministrations. Slow little circles around the little nub, feeling Therese’s body react to her touch, the way her breathing changes, or her thigh twitches— the little hums she earns or how she pushes herself as close as she can against Carol to give her better reach.

It feels good, plain and simple. The overwhelming intensity Therese had felt their first time together aren’t there this time. It’s a slow and gradual intimacy, composed of sighs and quiet moans. But it all starts to build up, and Therese finds herself gripping at Carol’s thighs for purchase, a little concentrated frown knitting her brows. Carol brings her other hand down to Therese’s hip, keeping her from squirming against her as she continues her pattern of little circles around Therese’s clit. Therese hums, taking in a sharp breath.

“Do little half circles— on the right— on the right,” Therese says breathily, and Carol does exactly as she’s told, moving no more urgently than she had before, until Therese whimpers and plants her feet against the base of the tub. She shudders, and tenses against Carol, who continues her ministrations without change of pace, drawing out the orgasm as long as she can until little moans leave Therese’s lips and she begins to relax.

“I haven’t done that before,” Carol murmurs, kissing Therese’s cheek gently. “Gone that slow.”

“I liked it,” Therese says, sighing as Carol teases her fingers down to Therese’s vagina and back up to her clit.

“I can tell,” Carol says amusedly, kissing Therese when she tilts her head up to her.

“You’re giving me new ideas,” Therese admits with an edge of deviousness to her tone, but also clear fatigue.

Carol draws her hands up and hugs Therese from behind, pressing her face into her hair. “Shall we rinse off and finish getting ready for bed?”

“Water’s still hot, I’d like to soak a while longer. It feels so nice.”

Carol smiles. “Ten more minutes okay? I know you’ve been resting all day but sleep is the best medicine.”

“I’m looking forward to it… I just wanna rest here with you a little longer.”

“I love you,” Carol murmurs.

Thereses miles, leaning her head back against Carol’s shoulder once again.

“I love you too.”

 

 

*~*~*~

 

Therese sleeps like she hasn’t slept before. The bath and the intimacy, a few minutes of her vaporizer pen and the Tylenol for muscle pain lull her into a deep and restful sleep that goes undisturbed for the entirety of the night. There is only one point that she thinks she might have roused, sensing the absence of Carol beside her in the bed, but rolling over to find her pillow smelling of her and lavender and home, and falling right back to sleep.

Waking up is tough business, but primarily motivated by her bladder. Therese rubs a hand over her face and is thrust into wakefulness by the jolt of pain she causes herself by touching her injured cheek too roughly. With a resigned groan, she lets go of Carol’s pillow, which she had been clutching in her sleep, and slipping out of bed and padding to the bathroom without a second thought.

Once she’s gone through most of her morning basics including brushing her hair, washing her face, and rinsing her mouth with mouthwash. She steps back into the bedroom, feeling just about human until she reaches the bed again.

The cardigan she’d been wearing the day before isn’t draped over the same chair she’d left it on the night before.

It’s folded on the dresser instead.

Suddenly Therese feels terribly cold.

She doesn’t hear any sounds of life in the house like she usually does when she wakes alone. No murmuring from the kitchen, nor from the playroom. The house is quiet.

Therese walks out of the bedroom with heavy steps, descending the stairs with increasing urgency, until she’s on the main floor and a feeling of deep dread claws at her gut. The kitchen is completely clean, all the dishes are washed. Carol’s iPad and laptop are gone, but Therese’s is sitting at the kitchen table next to her camera and phone.

There is a piece of paper folding in half on the table and Therese goes over to it, snatching it off the table and sitting down heavily.

She reads.

      _My dearest Therese,_

_Tom Tucker died late last night._

_You were sleeping so soundly I couldn’t bear to wake you, but this development has scared me to my very core._

_Hargess had cameras planted in my home, he had us followed, he had you kidnapped, and now he’s killed someone._  
 _I know you’ve told me repeatedly how none of this is my fault, and I have been fighting and fighting to be able_  
 _to believe that for myself. I am terrified, Therese, for myself and for you and for Rindy and she is the one I have_  
 _to consider most strongly here. I don’t believe Norinda is safe, and with Hargess still at large the possibilities are_  
 _far too many and I can’t risk her being put in harm's way. Hargess has tried to control me since before we were_  
 _married, and my work and then my beautiful innocent daughter were the only things that gave me any reprieve. I was_  
 _reckless with you, Therese, letting myself fall for you as quickly and openly as I did. I know you’ll be angry with me_  
 _for saying so, but I was weak. I was weak, and I was lonely and you were this selcouth beacon of curiosity and_  
 _talent. You made me feel human, and you have made me feel human every day since we met. I love you so much that it_  
 _makes me dizzy and giggly and absolutely terrified. I am the luckiest woman in the world to have been your first,_  
 _to have earned your love— that you love Rindy as well makes me all the luckier._  
  
_But I had to leave. Staying together makes us a bigger target, Therese and I can’t let Hargess win this time. He’s_  
 _hurt me and he’s hurt you, and I can’t let him hurt Norinda too. I didn’t think he could before, and I should_  
 _have before it got this far… I’m so sorry Therese, you deserve to be able to live your life without having to look_  
 _over your shoulder and worry about being followed, or about social media speculation and tabloids, or about a_  
 _violent man who would stop at nothing to hurt me by hurting the people I love. It isn’t safe with me Therese it isn’t_  
 _safe. I know you would choose to stay, and it breaks my heart because I want you with me, but I can’t justify_  
 _putting you at risk. I won’t be that selfish. You deserve better than that. You deserve to be with someone who_  
 _isn’t attached to an evil man. I wish that could be me, but a monster lurks between us and he will resort to violence._  
 _I’m taking Rindy somewhere safe for a while, and I’ve arranged something similar for you. I expect you to be_  
 _furious with me, but please, if you do anything, please accept this at least until Hargess is apprehended. Abby_  
 _has promised to get you set up in a pre-furnished loft apartment. It has a lot of natural light, but most_  
 _importantly it has a lot of space and both a doorman and apartment security systems. Abby has already had it_  
 _rearranged so that half the space has been set up as a studio. I didn’t know what you’d need so I left my_  
 _Christmas gift for you (and a little extra) on the coffee table. I want you to thrive, Therese and for a moment_  
 _I was so sure I wanted to be able to watch you, but I don’t know how this is going to play out, and I have_  
 _to do what I can to keep us all safe. Please don’t wait for me. I can’t in good faith expect that of you after_  
 _what I’ve done in leaving you so suddenly like this. You are under no obligation._  
 _Therese Belivet, you are free of me._

_I’ve made sure Hargess won’t be able to track any of my devices, so I won’t be reachable._

_I love you. I’m sorry._

_Yours, Carol._

 

She’d begun to cry by the middle of the letter. Heavy sobs, with thick tears dripping down her cheeks and onto the paper. She rubs her eyes excessively to finish reading, wet whimpers leaving her lips. Therese puts the letter down and leans back in her chair with silent tears dripping down her cheeks. Some of them sting her injured cheek, but she doesn’t move, she just sits and cries.

She stands, kicking the chair next to her hard enough to send it toppling and skipping across the room. She screams. She screams with grief, and anger and pain, and keeps screaming until her ears ring and her face hurts.

The doorbell rings.

A shuddering sob wracks through her. And with her ears still ringing she goes to answer the door.

She doesn’t care who might be behind it at this point. She doesn’t care at all. The faint idea that it could be Hargess Foster at the door doesn’t even stop her. She’d kill him, she decides as she opens the entrance door. Even concussed she’d fight him and kill him for putting Carol through all this, for putting her through all this.

Therese opens the door.

It’s Abby.

Therese walks away from her without a greeting, heading the for stairs.

“Therese…” Abby shuts the door behind her and hastily takes off her boots, “Therese!” she calls, voice full of worry.

Therese can hear Abby’s hurried footsteps as she catches up with her, but she’s already where she wants to be. Abby stops in the doorway of the playroom, expression contorted in concern and worry.

Therese lies on the mat in the reading nook, staring blankly at the ceiling above her with silent tears dripping down her face past her temples every time she blinks, clutching the beautiful knitted orange octopus toy to her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Your comments are truly appreciated, and I would love to hear your thoughts. I'm curious about what stood out to you, be it a line of dialogue or a snippet of description. I would appreciate it if comments about the love scene stayed appropriate, please!  
> Thank you so much for your dedication to this fic, as I near the end of this journey I really have to recognize that your presence in the comments helped me get here.  
> You can find me on tumblr at @ BRIELARSONSBICEPS


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only five more chapters to go, and 5k more to accomplish Camp Nano! 
> 
> As usual this is only lightly edited with Grammarly so I hope your reading experience won't be hindered in any way. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Therese keeps the window open on the passenger side of Abby’s car. The air is cold but the blanket draped over her, Carol’s cardigan keeps her warm enough while they drive. The air helps with the motion induced malaise she feels, but what helps most is her vaporizer pen, which she depends on for the first hour so much that she needs to fit the pen with a new cartridge. Long draws, and exhalations of thick clouds that disappear out the window. She keeps a cap on with the visor low over her eyes, and sunglasses under that— still despite the contents of her vaporizer she feels particularly unwell. The day after the incident Therese had thought she’d been generally alright, but she’d been able to rest and ice her face and be comfortable and be comforted by the presence of Carol and Rindy.

It’s thoughts like those that have thick tears dripping down her cheeks every so often, which she’d just let fall.

“You alright?” Abby asks the first time she notices.

Therese nods. “S’the concussion,” she says.

“Let me know if you need me to stop,” Abby says, to which Therese nods.

The drive back to the city is straight forward. They only stop twice for bathroom breaks and to get some food which Therese hardly eats. She makes sure her hair hides her face when she gets out of the car, her bruised face feeling like a bullseye of attention that she does not want to attract. Abby stays with her while they stretch their legs, never saying anything that doesn’t need to be said. They barely stay more than half an hour per rest stop.

Only when they’re within the city limits does Abby break the silence.

“I can have all your things moved to the new apartment right away. There are people on standby.”

Therese turns her head to look at Abby. “What about my lease?” she asks.

“I thought of that; I can turn it into an Air B&B for you.”

Therese turns her gaze straight ahead out of the windshield, the slower traffic doesn’t make her feel as unwell.

“They know how to pack art?” She’d pack is all herself if they weren’t qualified for it.

“Yes, the people I work with are expert interior designers and movers. I just need to know everything you want brought over.”

Therese is quiet for a moment. “My art, my art supplies, everything in the wall unit, my photography, my printer, my clothes.” She shrugs.

“Knick-knacks, art like figurines or photographs, jewelry?” Abby tries, and Therese merely nods.

“We’re not going back my place are we?” Therese asks.

“No, unless you want to?”

Therese shakes her head. “No. Let’s just go to the new place.”

Abby makes a phone call on the way to the new apartment, telling whoever she’d hired to move Therese’s things that she would be joining them within the hour. The remainder of the drive takes twenty minutes, and if Therese didn’t feel as terrible as she does, she might have been impressed by the building they approach. Abby drives into the underground garage and all the way to a set of doors with a keypad and display.

“I’ll get your stuff,” Abby says, turning off the car and getting out.

Therese opens her door as well, swinging her feet out the side, but staying on the seat. She slips off her sunglasses, absently folding the blanket she’d been wearing and placing it on the seat behind her. Abby comes around, rolling Therese’s suitcase to her, and reaches into her own bag. She produces a key chain, with a rich, dark green leather band, one decently large key, a smaller key, and some kind of silver and black key fob. Therese takes the set from Abby, runs her thumb over the leather.

“Your apartment is 8-C, so 8th floor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna need your old keys,” Abby says.

“Right.” Therese tucks her keys into the pocket of the cardigan and leans forward unzipping the outer pocket of the suitcase. Her old keys have more keys, and accessory charms; the outer building key, the apartment key, the key to her storage locker, a USB key, a charm with “THERESE” on it, and a tiny flashlight.

“The outer key has the blue sticker, the apartment has the purple.” Therese fishes the USB and flashlight charms off the key set and hands them over to Abby.

“You don’t want the name charm?” Abby asks.

Therese shakes her head, fixing the USB and flashlight to her new key set. “What is this fob for?”

“To scan in,” Abby says. “The regular keys are just for power failures.” She shrugs. “The smaller one is for your storage locker.”

“Oh— that reminds me, I have some boxes of shit in the storage locker at my old place.”

“Should we just put it in this locker then?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

Therese shakes her head. “I’ll go. You’ll be back in an hour anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll text you when we’re on our way back— alright?”

“Yeah.”

Therese heads for the door, rolling her suitcase beside her. She fishes the keys out of her pocket and presses the key fob to the scanner, it beeps and the door buzzes and pops open. Therese looks back over her shoulder, watching Abby start the car and make her departure.

She heads for the elevators then, pressing the UP button and listening to the hum of the elevator and watching the numbers as the car descends to the basement level. It opens, and she’s a little surprised to see how large it is. Therese steps inside, pressing the button for the 8th floor, and begins her ascent.

The 8th floor has five apartments on it. Therese guides her suitcase down the hall and finds apartment C. After taking a deep breath she scans her fob and the door beeps and she hears it unlock. She turns the knob and lets the door swing open revealing an entrance area with a shoe mat and a rack for jackets.

Therese shuts the door behind her and toes off her shoes. Everything is clean and new renovation, and Therese lets go of her suitcase to walk into the middle of the living space, looking up at the tall ceiling. Tall windows make up the far wall, all thankfully lined with two sets of blinds— one that dims light and prevents anyone from seeing in, the other are blackout curtains.

The apartment is simply furnished with a neutral colour scheme with soft pops of colours. To the left of the large space, Therese can see sliding panels that lead into a large studio space. She walks over to it compulsively, standing at the threshold of the space, looking at the tables and the stands and the shelves, the adjustable racks for different sized canvases for drying and storage. There is even a smaller corner dedicated to her photography equipment.

Therese turns away from the studio, going instead over to the kitchen area. She looks in the freezer and finds it impeccably organized. She fishes out a soft ice pack looking through the cabinets until she finds a thin dish towel, which she wraps the ice pack with, presses it to her face and explores the rest of the apartment. Her bedroom is separate from the living space, set up with a queen sized bed and access to a large balcony and wardrobe, as well as a small desk near the windows. Both her room and the living space have doors that lead to a large out balcony that already has some outer furniture on it.

Therese forgoes exploring any further, instead opting to lay on the large bed, right in the middle with the icepack pressed to her cheek. She closes her eyes and sighs, her tired body finally able to rest comfortably. She knows she won’t have long, but these precious moments of solitude help her come to terms with accepting this outrageous gift.

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

Even filled with her belongings, this “house” does not feel like a home.

It all happens very fast once the movers arrive, with Abby taking lead and indicating where things should go at Therese’s behest.

Therese stays at the island in her kitchen, sipping at a mug of tea that Abby had put on for her. Despite the fatigue— both emotional and physical— Therese can’t help but find the experience of watching Abby in her element rather intriguing. She commands respect and collaboration among the people she works with, and the task of putting things where they need to be goes so swiftly that everything finds a place within an hour and a half.

The space does look marginally more homely by the time they’re done, considering Abby has arranged what little cushions and throws Therese had at her other apartment into something out of a home and style magazine. At some point Therese finds and tucks away the gift card Carol had mentioned in her letter, left right on the coffee table as she’d said— it isn’t something that Therese wants to dwell on right away but she does put it somewhere safe in the interim.

Finally, there only remains Abby, who takes a seat near Therese at the island, and looks at her with a sympathetic smile.

“Do you want me to stay?” she asks.

Therese shakes her head. “You’ve done enough, thank you.”

“I’m sorry about all of this, Terry, I really am,” says Abby earnestly.

“I would have liked a choice.” Therese brings her mug to her lips, taking another sip of her tea.

“Carol had a feeling you’d choose her. It’s too dangerous to keep you together— the three of you.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Therese argues, but there is little strength behind it.

Abby merely sighs. “I don’t, but she and that amazing little girl are two of the most important people in my life, and I can’t let anything happen to them while Hargess is still at large.”

“They’re two of the most important people in my life too.”

There’s a measure of pain behind Abby’s eyes. “I can see that.”

“Do you know where they are?” Therese asks.

“I don’t, no. She said she’d call me eventually, but didn’t give me a number.”

“Would you tell me? If you did know.”

Abby takes a deep breath. “I know how much you care about her, Terry, I really do.” Therese gives her a deflated look. “But this thing you had with her, it was so fresh. It’s a roller coaster of emotions to fall in love with someone as hard and as fast as you two have. Sometimes it can trump the responsible choices— the hard choices.”

“I didn’t get a choice, Abby,” Therese says.

“Being near her puts Rindy at risk!” Abby’s voice is just a touch harsher now.

Therese levels her a slight glare. “I would do anything to keep Rindy safe!”

“Even stay away?” Abby challenges.

Therese clenches her jaw, grimacing when it makes her cheek hurt. “We could have discussed it,” she mutters. “We could have discussed it!” She slams her hand on the top of the island. “I know she’s scared! I sure as hell was and am terrified! I was the one that got kidnapped, Abby! I think I deserved a say in how we proceeded!” She rubs at her forehead, feeling the familiar sting of tears but blinking them back.

“While that sick son of a bitch is still out there, you are a target,” Abby says slowly. “And I can’t in good faith say it’s safe for you to be with Carol and Rindy, because he hates what you have with Carol, and they could get caught in the crossfire.”

“I’m alone,” Therese says. “How am I supposed to navigate any of this on my own? I don’t have a PR person, I don’t have a lawyer to explain things to me, I am a fucking freelance artist who mails everything herself and who would not have been able to afford that shit hole apartment if the landlord hadn’t given me a rent decrease ‘cause the heat didn’t fucking work properly.”

Abby doesn’t say anything right away, glancing at her hands clasped on the island with an edge of guilt in her eyes.

“You can contact Carol’s lawyer and her PR agent with any questions about the video and the outstanding charges on Hargess.”

“Money doesn’t make everything better,” Therese says stubbornly.

Abby stands, taking a step closer to Therese. “I know it doesn’t. But at least it can make things more comfortable in the interim. You won’t feel like this forever.”

“I don’t know what to feel, my concussion isn’t exactly keeping things coherent.” Therese tries some self-deprecating humour.

Abby smiles softly reaching out and tucking some of Therese’s hair behind her ear.

“Will you be alright?” she asks.

Therese sighs. “Just alright,” she agrees.

“Can I hug you?” Abby asks. Therese nods, standing. Abby wraps her arms around Therese’s shoulders, while Therese wraps hers around Abby’s middle. For a moment, things don’t feel too terrible, and Therese remembers the comfort she felt when Abby hugged her the night the video was leaked. But it’s all over too soon.

Abby steps away, giving Therese’s shoulder a rub.

“You can text me,” she offers and heads toward the door.

“Thanks,” Therese replies, watching her slips her shoes on.

Before Abby lets herself out, she looks back at Therese. “Call someone, Terry. Don’t let yourself be alone in this.”

She shuts the door behind her, leaving Therese in silence.

For a few long moments loneliness and hopelessness rattle through Therese’s being. Part of her desperately wants Carol to talk to, but another part of her, the part that wants nothing more than to see Hargess Foster lose comes up with another face that fills Therese with a deep sense of fondness. Danny.

But when Therese finds her phone in her room, she finds herself hovering over Carol’s number. She clicks it even though she knows Carol won’t answer.

It rings, and rings, and rings, and rings. Until she gets a voicemail.

The tears come back when she hears Carol voice telling her she won’t be reachable for some time and to forward and important messages to her manager, for whom she leaves a number.

Therese wipes a tear off her cheek and hears the familiar beep.

“Hi Carol,” she says softly. “I wish you’d talked to me about this.” She takes a deep and shaky breath. “The apartment you chose is beautiful. Absolutely too much, but beautiful.” Another breath. “Abby helped get me settled.” Therese closes her eyes, swallowing a squeaky sob. “I’m so mad at you, Carol. I’m so mad at you for leaving me alone!” Another shaky inhalation with a slightly smoother exhalation. “We could have talked about this.” She clears her throat. “I love you.”

She ends the call.

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

When Therese puts it into perspective, it hadn’t even been a week that she’d been with Carol and Rindy at the Chalet. And now she’s back in the city alone and hardly has a clue what to do with herself in this giant beautiful apartment. Exploring the studio space is the first thing she does after she’s eaten, getting her laptop out and going through her order history from her store. Every single painting she has featured on her store, forty of various sizes many of which she hasn’t revisited in months. And forty people want to buy them from her.

Therese orders shipping boxes with custom foam inserts, glassine paper to wrap the larger canvases in, bubble wrap, and padded envelopes for the smaller prints and canvases. She would have other orders to place as well, from the printing company she is in touch in who does her prints. A headache sets in after a few hours of attempting to get her work organized so she resigns herself to taking a break and digs out her vaporizer pen, and her ice pack from the freezer, and lies down on the couch, blowing out clouds with her eyes closed.

Her phone chirps and Therese reaches for it, checking the reminders she’d left herself to call Danny and to make herself something to eat. She takes a few more pulls from her pen before getting up and moving to the kitchen. Therese pours herself a cold glass of water and looks in the fridge aimlessly. She finds a few Tupperwares with chopped vegetables and fruit and precooked meats. There are coloured sticky notes on the different Tupperwares, and Therese slips one out with a blue label.

She can tell there are chopped carrots and celery, and onion in it, and the note says she’ll find a mason jar of soup ingredients called “Hearty Chicken Noodle Soup”. Therese finds the jar in question and reads the instructions over. She finds a pot and places it on the stove, adding a splash of avocado oil that she finds in another cupboard and turning the heat on. While the pot is heating up, she drinks her water and looks over at her phone.

Therese had needed the morning to herself, to just _be_ in the space. But now she would take the advice Abby had given her and call someone. There’s a certain level of guilt in her gut as she thumbs through her contacts until she finds Danny’s number. She doesn’t know his schedule, and worries about bothering him by calling all of a sudden. Before she can let the guilt overwhelm her she presses CALL and puts it on speaker phone. It rings four times.

“Hello—?”

Relief floods through her and she lets out a heavy breath.

“Hi,” she says, immediately struck that she has no idea what to say or where she’d begin.

“Terry— hey, how’s the chalet?” He sounds so genuine that Therese’s chest hurts.

She clears her throat. “I’m actually back in the city.”

“So soon, has there been some progress?”

“No… uh,” she can feel her eyes welling with tears already and leans her head back, taking a deep breath. “Change of plans.” There’s a pause and she hears the cry of an infant and the guilt punches her in the gut. “Did your sister have her baby?” she asks, her voice breaking.

“Yeah, she was a week and a half early,” Danny says and Therese can hear the fondness in his voice. “Are you okay?”

“It doesn’t matter, I don’t wanna take you away from your family—” her voice betrays her utterly.

“Terry,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Talk to me.”

Therese sighs shakily. “I’m making lunch— soup…” she says dumbly.

“Want me to come over?”

She does, but she doesn’t want to ask. She doesn’t say anything at all.

“Will there be enough soup for me?” Danny asks.

“Yes, there will be plenty.”

“I’ll be by in like forty-five minutes then.”

Therese inhales sharply. “Danny—”

“Yeah?”

“Something happened. I’m— I’m not at the same apartment.” She gives him the address, and he breathes a laugh.

“That’s a lot closer actually.”

Therese pops the lid off the chopped veggies. “Hold on a sec,” she says and tips the contents into the hot pot, which hisses loudly and sends an aromatic cloud of steam into her face. She quickly turns on the fan over the hood and moves her phone over to the island.

“The code will be zero zero eight three,” she says a little louder, finding a utensil to stir the vegetables.

“Sounds like that’ll be some great soup.” Danny laughs. “Okay gotcha, anything else?”

Therese takes a deep breath and sighs. “I have a nasty bruise on my face and stitches— but it’s covered with a little dressing.”

“Seriously? — what happened?”

“I can’t say over the phone, okay?” She says deflatedly.

Danny sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.”

They end the call.

Therese sighs and checks the instructions on the jar again, getting down a large measuring cup and fills it with three cups of water which she promptly pours into the pot. She turns the heat up and promptly pours the rest of the contents of the jar into the water. Therese gives it all a stir before letting it sit and begin to come to a boil. She checks the instructions again, and smiles, ducking back into the fridge and pulling out a Tupperware of shredded chicken, and another smaller one of bacon bits.

She sits at the island, drinking her cold water and taking slow pulls from her vaporizer. She leans on her ice pack until the soup comes to a boil, and continues to hold it to her face while she gives it another stir and lowers the heat to let it all simmer. She shakes in the shredded chicken and bacon bits and stirs it all together. She glances at the clock and makes note of how long the noodles need to cook, and sits back down.

Therese takes a deep breath, enjoying the aromatic scent of the soup as it gets closer to being finished. The time goes by quickly, and Therese soon turns the heat down to LOW to keep it warm and gives it another good stir. She samples the soup after blowing on her spoonful softly, she nods lightly, but something feels like it’s missing, and she goes through the cabinets until she finds a spice rack and through the drawers until she finds a set of measuring spoons. She adds an eighth of a teaspoon of chilli powder to the soup and watches the liquid turn a bit more orange in colour.

She drinks another glass of water and tidies up a little impulsively while she waits.

But soon enough the security system chimes and Therese finds herself buzzing Danny in. His knock comes minutes later.

Therese opens the door, taking a deep breath. She is met with a kind of grimace on Danny’s face, a look of horror and sympathy and concern.

“Jesus— Therese…” He steps inside, eyes tearing over the state of her face.

“I know,” she says stepping back.

His brows knit in concern, and he shrugs out of his coat and toes off his boots.

“That soup smells really good.”

Therese smiles. “Thanks.”

They stand in silence near her front door for a long moment, until Therese motions toward the kitchen.

“Come eat. I haven’t—like— prepared… how I’m gonna explain this… I don’t even know where to start.”

Danny nods understandingly and heads toward the kitchen.

“Take your time, Terry, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

They have long since finished their soup by the time Therese manages to tell Danny about everything that’s happened. The tears had begun just as quickly and Therese had found it quite reassuring that Danny himself had shed some tears of his own as she’d stumbled through her story. She’d only ever seen Rick cry once when he’d fractured his wrist falling off his bike, and even then, those had been tears of pain.

“I’ve been crying for like a week,” Danny admits, wiping at his eyes with a paper towel he’d balled into his hand.

“Over your niece?” Therese asks, taking a pull from her vaporizer.

“Over Kimmy, with Mickey, over little Rayelle— she’s still so tiny, even though she was— like— safe early, y’know?”

Therese nods. “So Kim went into labour early?”

“Yeah, didn’t get to the hospital on time to stop it medically either, so she went through with the labour. It was so scared for her Terry she was trying to keep a brave face but you could see how worried she was.”

Therese places a hand over his and he holds it, giving it a light squeeze. “Rayelle scored really well on the APGAR tests though, despite being tiny and needing help breathing for a few days.” He smiles. “We all took turns in the Neonatal ward with her, so she was never alone.”

“This all happened the day after I left?”

Danny nods.

“I shouldn’t have called you away, Danny, you should clearly be with your sister.”

“Don’t even go there, Terry. I’m going to go back to Kim’s later anyway. She and Mickey have it squared away, I’m just the uncle who can’t get enough of his tiny little niece.”

“Do you have pictures?” Therese asks, and Danny whips his phone out so fast it’s disorienting, and within seconds Therese is witness to a tiny baby girl swaddled in soft coloured blankets in the arms of one mother, then the other, and then Danny who looks both awed and terrified and utterly in love. There are some of Rayelle alone too, sleeping in a little cot with a stuffed animal sitting next to her that is almost the same size as her. Therese recognizes the toy, a lion, as the same brand as Rindy’s elephant. Another photo is of Kim and Danny sitting next to each other, Kim looking exhausted but happy and Danny looking proud and relieved with his shirt half unbuttoned and Rayelle perched against his chest sleeping soundly.

“You did some skin to skin?” She hands the phone back to him. He nods.

“Mickey suggested it since Kim was so exhausted. I’ve never held something so delicate, it took me like ten minutes to relax knowing she wouldn’t just slip off…”

Therese laughs. “That’s amazing, Danny, really amazing.”

“It’s all surreal I am so lucky she’s including me as much as she is.”

“You're making up for lost time— not being able to be in each other's lives ‘til now. I bet you’re gonna be a way tighter knit family than your parents let you be.”

Danny looks at Therese with a calm smile and nods. “I like how that sounds, yeah,” he takes a deep breath, “not that I blame our parents for keeping us apart— their lives were pretty fucked up too, but I’ve gotta tell myself ‘better late than never’ because I’ve felt a lot more grounded since she and I met for real.”

“You’re siblings that were meant to be together,” Therese says resolutely.

Danny looks pensive for a few moments. “You should come to the— uh… what did Kim call it?— uh— the _Welcome Party_. For Ray.”

“Really?” Therese raises a brow. “When will it be?”

“Not for a couple of weeks— she came before the baby shower, so they’re pushing the date further to make sure she’s strong enough to handle everyone’s germs.”

Therese smiles hard enough to make her face hurt. “Should give me enough time not to look like I’ve been through the wringer.”

“It’ll be alright, even if you’re still yellow around the edges,” Danny assures.

“I wouldn’t want to weird anyone out— what would they think? I’d take the attention off Kim and Rayelle.”

Danny gives her a look and Therese gives a huff.

“You’re gonna be fine, it takes— what?— two weeks tops to heal a bad bruise?”

“I’ll make sure to keep icing it.”

Danny gives a little hum. “Actually, you could try a combination of ice and heat— it’ll relax the muscles and probably help the blood dissipate— you could also hold a green tea bag to it.”

Therese laughs. “Thanks, I’ll keep all of that in mind.”

“So you’ll come?” He asks.

“Yeah, just give me the date and time,” Therese replies, and he does.

Once the date is set in her calendar, they’re quiet for a moment. Therese takes a pull from her vaporizer and blows out a slow cloud, Danny looks pensive.

“I know it probably isn’t what you wanna hear Ter, but I don’t think Carol was wholly in the wrong.”

She gives him a look and he shrugs.

“Not with the ditching you or not talking to you about it— I think she could have done that. But the hiding, separately, for her daughter’s safety. I get it.”

“Everyone keeps implying that as if I’m putting my feelings over Rindy’s safety for wanting to be with them.”

“You were kidnapped, you deserved a say,” Danny says. “But I’m saying I get how scared she is for her daughter— hell I’m not even a dad and I am suddenly seriously worried about everything for Rayelle.”

“I know how scared she is,” Therese says, shaking her head. “But she’s also been abused by her ex for years. She doesn’t think she deserves to feel happy. I understand the safety part— I do. I just… resent how… how he won. He scared Carol so bad, he hurt me to hurt her, and he got what he wanted— he separated us.”

“It’s one battle. The police will catch him eventually.”

Therese sighs. “She set me up in this apartment, spared no expense, but she also told me not to wait for her, that I deserve someone who doesn’t put me at risk.”

“She’s just giving you an out, Terry,” Danny says. “It was probably pretty painful for her too, she’s dealing with so much.”

“We could have dealt with it together.”

“Try not to think about it too much. I know that might sound cheesy and self-helpy but you gotta look forward. Focus on your art, focus on getting better. Those are things you can control.”

Therese nods. “Dunno how much control I have over this concussion,” she jokes lightly.

“You know the drill— plenty of rest, plenty of brain food, stay hydrated, try to stay off screens.”

“My work is on screens,” she says with an exaggerated whine.

Danny laughs. “Fulfill your orders and whatever as fast as you can, then just paint or something.”

“Or something—” Therese shakes her head, taking a pull from her pen. “Yeah, I’ll get the orders done, the packing stuff should arrive tomorrow, gotta see about arranging pickups since I’m not supposed to do difficult manual labour in my condition.” She makes a face and Danny chuckles.

“There’s the Therese I know,” Danny says fondly. She scrunches up her nose at his use of her full name. “Really,” he insists. “You get this focused expression on your face when you’re thinking about your art like everything could just fall into place.”

Therese smiles. “Speaking of my face, what came of our shoot?”

Danny grins. “I actually did manage to get through editing the photos, and they turned out fantastically. I’ll send them to you when I get the chance.”

“I’d love to post some on my Instagram and or my blog, promote your business.”

“That sounds good to me.”

For the first time since she was taken, she truly feels a spark of joy over this.

“Thank you,” she says earnestly, for more than just the photos.

“You’re welcome, and thank _you_ for calling me. It means a lot that you trust me and that you thought of me to call after everything you’ve been through.”

Therese shrugs, though her expression remains full of sincerity. “I was worried about interrupting you before I called, but you _were_ the only person I considered calling— you— your energy… you’re an authentic person, Danny. I appreciate that.”

He smiles softly. “Can I give you a hug?”

“Yeah,” she says and stands.

Danny stands too, easily wrapping his arms around her and giving Therese’s back a comforting rub. Therese takes a deep breath, hugging him back as well. She closes her eyes for a few seconds until a smile sneaks onto her face and she gives a slight laugh.

“What is it?” He asks amusedly, leaning back.

“You smell like baby,” she laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I do so appreciate your comments. I'd love to know if a particular line of dialogue or perhaps a snippet of description stood out to you in particular, or even just a moment you found particularly poignant. 
> 
> Thank you again and hopefully, all things going to plan, you'll get another chapter in a day or two.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little different than the last, I had some fun with the format.  
> As of posting this, I have 374 words left to write for Camp Nano, which means I'll have beat my goal somewhere in the first scene of chapter 22. Things are moving forward, though it has been a game of reconstructing the timeline of events, as well as consulting my outline for the story. I still need a few things to happen before this baby is complete and I'm excited to be bringing you all with me.

_You have reached the voice-mail box of_ Carol Aird,  _I cannot be reached at this time, for urgent messages please press 9 to be forwarded to my manager’s voice-mail box, after the beep please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you as soon as possible, thank you._

“Hi, Carol. Danny— you remember Danny right?— his sister had her baby and I saw some photos. She was a bit of a premie but she’s doing amazingly. He came by the apartment and I told him what happened… he invited me to baby Rayelle’s welcoming party in a few weeks. He’s so in love with that baby, it’s really sweet. He’s so happy to be in his sister’s life again— can you believe they didn’t know the other existed for like twenty years? I miss you, and I miss Rindy. I dunno if it was your idea or Abby’s but thank you for the soups and the stocked fridge, it’s making things a lot easier… that’s all… bye.”

 

 _You have reached the voice-mail box of_ Carol Aird,  _I cannot be reached at this time, for urgent messages please press 9 to be forwarded to my manager’s voice-mail box, after the beep please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you as soon as possible, thank you._

“Hi, Carol. The studio space feels really empty now. The packing supplies arrived and I got everything sent out today. I didn’t realize I hadn’t gotten the chance to put my most recent three paintings up on my store… I think I’ll keep that  _one_ … I think you’ll remember which. I just feature it in my portfolio… I’ve been painting— I ordered more stuff, uh, canvases, supplies, but I had enough left over so I was able to paint today. I hope that ‘next-day shipping’ is legit because I think I’ll use up my last canvas tomorrow. I hope you and Rindy are alright. I miss you… Bye.”

 

 _You have reached the voice-mail box of_ Carol Aird,  _I cannot be reached at this time, for urgent messages please press 9 to be forwarded to my manager’s voice-mail box, after the beep please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you as soon as possible, thank you._

 

“I overdid it a bit with the painting. I’ll chalk it up to a combination of too much activity and paint fumes— yes I did have the ventilator fan running in the studio, I promise— I guess I’m just still a bit sensitive because of the concussion… Some of the paintings are dry, I’ll have to apply a varnish and get them up on my store. I’m thinking of implementing a bidding option since so many people have been interested in the paintings. Obviously, I’m keeping scans of them for prints but why not capitalize if there’s a demand, right? My headache isn’t as bad as it was, but I had to use a different concentrate in my vaporizer and four migraine Tylenol to kill it. Serves me right. I’m fine now. I miss you… Bye.”

 

 _You have reached the voice-mail box of_ Carol Aird,  _I cannot be reached at this time, for urgent messages please press 9 to be forwarded to my manager’s voice-mail box, after the beep please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you as soon as possible, thank you._

 

“I’ve been thinking about writing something for my blog, my social media in general I guess. About what happened. I’m gonna do a personal self-portrait photo shoot and control the narrative of the leaked video. I’m gonna run everything by your PR lady and Haynes but I think it’ll be cathartic to write everything out. The bruise looks a little better by the way. Danny said I should try heat and I did— it kinda migrated downward a little, still black and blue but there’s more yellow now. Baby steps… I want to run some errands soon. I’ll need a scarf or something ‘cause the bruise is still kind of alarming.  _[long sigh]_  I hope you and Rindy are doing alright. I miss you… Bye.”

 

 _You have reached the voice-mail box of_ Carol Aird,  _I cannot be reached at this time, for urgent messages please press 9 to be forwarded to my manager’s voice-mail box, after the beep please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you as soon as possible, thank you._

“I wrote that blog post today— in a notebook, so I wouldn’t have too much screen time, and then I typed it all up. I’m not going to send it to your PR lady or Haynes until I finish the self-portraits I’m going to be taking— tomorrow probably, ‘cause I want them to see it as complete as it can be. I’ve already made some notes and blocking for the portraits. I think I might also include some of Danny’s pictures from our shoot… it’s wild to think that I had such a good time with him that day, but only hours later I found out about the video and couldn’t get a hold of you. I hope you’ll read it— if I’m allowed to post it. Abby texted me today; said there might’ve been a sighting of Hargess, so maybe I will postpone my errands another day. If I get restless enough I can just go use the stair climber or walk on the treadmill… I hope you’re taking care of yourself, Evie. I miss Rindy. That’s all… bye.”

 

 _You have reached the voice-mail box of_ Carol Aird,  _I cannot be reached at this time, for urgent messages please press 9 to be forwarded to my manager’s voice-mail box, after the beep please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you as soon as possible, thank you. [ Erroneous beep ] This voice-mail has a ten message capacity, current number of messages is six._

“… I was kind of hoping you were getting these… just to know I was okay… Anyway, I finished the self-portraits and draft for my blog, I sent it off for approval. I got my new paintings up on my store. My mini photo shoot went well and the photos look good— I mean my cheek still looks pretty bad, but photographically I’m very pleased with how they turned out. Danny’s been sending me photos and videos of Rayelle, and I’m starting to anticipate them every day. She’s eating really well… uh… that’s all… I guess I’ll have to stagger these if your answering machine will be full soon… bye.”

 

 _You have reached the voice-mail box of_ Carol Aird,  _I cannot be reached at this time, for urgent messages please press 9 to be forwarded to my manager’s voice-mail box, after the beep please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you as soon as possible, thank you. [ Erroneous beep ] This voice-mail has a ten message capacity, current number of messages is seven._

_“_ I lost your ring  _[shaky sob]_  I lost your fucking ring I’m such an idiot, I’m such an idiot. I’ve looked everywhere.  _[Heavy breaths, a sniff]_  I was doing laundry today after finishing another painting— and this one got really messy so I took a shower  _[crying]_  I always take the ring off to shower— but a went to grab it off the dresser, and it wasn’t there  _[choked sob]_  I hadn’t taken it off before I showered— I don’t know where it went— I’m so fucking stupid, I’m so fucking stupid. How could I be so fucking careless— that— that ring’s the only thing I ha—ave  _[hyperventilating, sobbing]_  it’s the on—only thing I have left of you. I miss you, I m—miss you— I miss yo—you so much, it’s like a ho—hole in the middle of my che—chest, right where those fucking taster da—darts hit me— right there—”  _[long beep, message ends]_

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

It is truly unbearable for her to stay inside the apartment any longer. The weight of what feels akin to a hangover lingers over her from the emotional episode she’d been seized by at the loss of her ring. She manages to make herself a smoothie from a collection of a dozen flavours, taking her best headphones to spare her eardrums and already achy head from the loud blender. It’s a small gift that she finds the smoothie quite tasty and filling. She relies quite heavily on her vaporizer while she gets dressed, combing her hair with a damp brush and rubbing on some face cream for the first time in a week (careful to avoid her stitches). She decides she looks human and decides similarly that she can’t be bothered to put concealer on her dace.

She just needs to get out of the apartment.

There is a deep embarrassment lingering over her when she thinks about the emotional message she left on Carol’s answering machine. She finds her sunglasses and slips them on, glad to see that her bruise is reasonably hidden with her hair and the glasses.

She prepares to leave the apartment, going over a mental checklist— phone fully charged, keys in her small shoulder bag as well as her wallet and headphones. Therese shrugs on Carol’s cardigan and a large turtle neck scarf before stepping into her coat and boots. Her gloves would be in her pocket, and she slips her cap on to block out as much light as she can.

The ride down to the lobby is brief enough, and she passes the guard at the security desk on her way out, giving him a nod. The breezy late morning feels good in her bones. Therese walks, she just walks, letting her legs carry her and get her heart rate pumping just a little more than she can manage in the apartment. It feels better to walk, better to go somewhere than stay in one place.

She walks for twenty minutes straight before she needs to take a break, finding a small park with a bench where she sits down and takes out her vaporizer. She takes long pulls and lets the cold air increase the impressiveness of her exhaled clouds. Her phone starts buzzing and she takes it out, seeing that Abby is calling her.

“Hi Abby—” She greets.

“Hi Therese, how’re you doing?”

Therese gives a breath of a laugh. “Up and down I guess, I’m figuring out my limits.”

“Are you outside?” A truck goes by on the street a few yards from her.

“Yeah, I needed to take a walk, I was feeling cagey.”

“Did you ever end up calling someone?” She sounds sincere.

“Yeah, my friend Danny. He came by and we talked. I’m gonna go to his sister’s baby welcoming party soonish…”

She can hear Abby smiling. “That’s great.”

“Have you spoken to Carol?” Therese asks hesitantly.

“I haven’t, she said she would reach out when she could.”

“I did something stupid last night,” Therese admits.

Now she’s sure Abby is frowning. “What do you mean?”

“I lost this ring that Carol gave me… I found it stuck in the drawer of her dresser at the cottage— I’ve been wearing it since then… but I was painting yesterday and I misplaced it— you know— you know how concussions work, I kinda lost it.”

“Did you hurt yourself, Therese?”

“No!” she exclaims. “No, I called Carol’s phone… I was incomprehensible, I was just sobbing and I’m pretty sure I left a message on her answering machine… she hasn’t gotten any— it’s almost full, but it was terrible. I was terrible.”

“You called her? Okay— it’s okay. I’m sorry about your ring. Are you sure you looked everywhere?”

“I dunno, I thought I did.”

“You should try again, you’re calmer now.”

Therese finds herself nodding. “I… I dunno, maybe.”

“Are you doing better now?”

“Yeah I’m fine, I’m gonna walk back to the apartment soon— or see if there’s anywhere I can stop for lunch.”

“Okay, I’m glad you got out. Stay safe please.”

“I’ll do my best,” Therese says. “Was there a reason you called?”

“I was just checking in on you.”

“Oh— okay, thanks.”

“Don’t forget, I’m here if you need me. Just a text away.”

“I know,” Therese promises. “Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“If you talk to her, tell her I’m fine, tell her I’m sorry for freaking out.”

Abby is quiet for a few long seconds. “ _If_  I talked to her, I’ll let her know. She hasn’t contacted me yet.”

“Alright, that’s all…”

“Talk to you soon?”

“Mhm— talk soon.”

“Bye.”

They hang up. Therese sits with her phone on her lap for a few long minutes, looking around at the shops and the people and the around her. Her gaze is drawn to a salon, the outside of which has just been repainted a pleasant mint green. Therese stands, taking another pull from her vaporizer before tucking it back into her pocket. She crosses the street and makes her way to the salon, stepping inside. The receptionist looks up and smiles in greeting.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“Sorry, I have a pretty ugly bruise—” she takes off her glasses and had. “Rugby.” She lies.

“Oh wow, gnarly.” She can’t tell if the receptionist believes her or not, but she certainly doesn’t pry any further.

“Do you have room today?” Therese asks. “I’d like a haircut.”

 

 

*~*~*~

 

Fresh from the shower, Therese wanders out of her room in her pyjamas scrunching her now mid-neck length locks with a tea towel. The back of her neck has been shaved in a subtle undercut which she absently rubs as she heads toward the laundry nook and tugs open the dryer. She leaves the tea towel around her neck and picks up the basket she’d left by the washer and dryer, opening the latter. One by one the items she’d worn to paint the day before fill the basket, including a hoodie she’d worn while the window was open to prevent herself from getting another fumes-induced migraine.

A tinny clinking sound reaches Therese’s ears when she tugs the hoodie out, something falling by her feet and skittering across the floor with a small gleam. Therese puts down the basket and steps over to where she thinks she saw the item land.

It’s the ring. Completely undamaged.

Therese picks it up and holds it in her palm, looking it over before slipping it back onto her finger.

She shuts her eyes, remembering now, that she’d slipped it off and stuck it in her hoodie pocket when her project had begun to get a bit more messy.

She glances at her phone, unlocking it and opening up the call menu. Therese hesitates as she sits down on a nearby chair, and leans the phone against her forehead before she goes ahead and presses call. She shuts her eyes, listening to the rings, and holding her breath until she hears the familiar sound of Carol’s voice on the answering machine.

“ _You have reached the voice-mail box of_ Carol Aird,  _I cannot be reached at this time, for urgent messages please press 9 to be forwarded to my manager’s voice-mail box, after the beep please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you as soon as possible, thank you. [ Erroneous beep ] This voice-mail has a ten message capacity, current number of messages is seven.”_

Therese hangs up.

“I found the ring,” she whispers, “I took it off while I was painting yesterday and forgot I’d left it in my hoodie pocket.” She stands, walking slowly over to the kitchen. “I’m sorry if I scared you with the message I left on Friday, it was really awful.” Therese sticks a heating pad shaped like a watermelon slice into the microwave and sets it for two minutes. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Once the microwave beeps and Therese retrieves it, she makes her way back to her room and plugs in her phone. She takes the tea towel from around her neck and wraps the heating pad in it, laying down on her bed and holding the compress to her cheek. Therese stares up at the ceiling, heaving a heavy sigh. “I miss you. That’s all.”

 

*~*~*~

 

Therese sits in front of a large canvas late on Monday morning, contemplating the already-started piece she’s been working on. She’s in bare feet and a pair of old denim overalls that are paint stained and a little too big, as well as a black long sleeve sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She’d managed to get her hair into two french braids on either side of her head to keep it out of her face and wears a bottle green bandanna with a white paisley pattern on her head.

She has smudges of paint here and there on herself and her clothes from feet to head. Her painting sits at a slight angle, secured to an adjustable easel. She hadn’t set out to paint a self-portrait, and Therese had found her calling in more abstract works years earlier— but as soon as she’d set her brush onto the canvas, the shape of her own body had come out of it. Not photo-realistic and still identifiable as her personal style, from her shoulders to her hips, Therese had painted herself. A subtle hue of red-purple and green-ish yellow dappled with a delicate hand onto the places where hickeys had finally just finally faded, the dark brown of her subtle treasure trail, travelling down from her navel. The two little burn and puncture marks on her chest where the taser darts had stuck her.

It wasn't finished yet.

A chime from her laptop on her work table pulls her away from her contemplations and she stands, stretching as she walks over to the table. Therese grabs the damp rag sitting in an old ice cream tub and wipes her hands before returning to her laptop.

It’s from Fred Haynes.

She clicks it and reads it over carefully.

 

_Ms. Belivet,_

_Myself and Ms. Aird’s management have reviewed your draft. You are approved to publish it as long as you remove any direct naming of Hargess Foster, as he is still at large. You may include hyperlinks to other articles discussing him by name, as well as articles reporting about your kidnapping last week. I’ve been in touch with the investigative team and they have requested that you include this embedded code in your blog post which will allow them to monitor the website traffic and potentially track Mr. Foster should he read your publication. You do not have to resend another draft for approval, merely remove mention of Mr. Foster by name, and you may proceed with publishing at any time._

_Best regards,_

_Fred Haynes_

 

Therese downloads the text file hosting the small script she would have to slip into her blog post, she gleans it but doesn’t understand much in terms of coding, and opens her browser where her draft has been waiting. She grabs a water bottle to her left and drinks some while she draws her thumb over the trackpad and begins to sort out the minor corrections she needs to make. 

She’d explained everything in a bit of a performative fashion; a brief introduction about the commission and meeting Carol Aird, but changing directions when the more intimate and difficult subjects had come up. She instead focuses on the feelings she’s worked through in the short time since she’d come to understand her sexuality in a way she’d been unable to before. There are photographs of her from the shoot with Danny, she’d written that section, letting her heart speak without embellishing, and she’d let her heart continue to speak while she got into the first day at the chalet, and the wonder she’d witnessed when Carol got to see the new renovation and Rindy got to see her playroom.

The hardest part had been editing some photos from the zoo, which had taken her many hours to finish and no shortage of tears. But they’d made the final cut eventually— shots of she and Rindy together, smiling of Therese lifting Rindy up to pet the giant horse, a sorta blurry one Rindy had taken of Therese holding a tiny squirmy pig, and finally the one of Rindy’s expression when the tiny cow had licked her face.

She’d written a warning about the photographs of her bruises, and continued her story, explaining what happened and providing links to other articles on news websites that discussed her kidnapping, and additionally, the killing of Kris Kabler, who had also remained unnamed, in more detail. Therese shared three photographs that she’d taken herself with professional lighting that had captured her very being only a week after the incident. Her bruise was still ripe and she appeared truly tired She had made sure that her face had merely been clean, her cheeks had small rubbed-raw rosy patched and despite her best efforts she looked tired and it wouldn’t take a genius to understand that she’d been crying a lot in the days prior to the photos being taken.

Explaining the concussion was the easiest, detailing the difficulties with mood and sensitivity to light and noise, and the everpresent vague headache that likes to rear its head when she overdoes it.

Therese does make a last minute addition, deciding to include some photos she took the Saturday she’d gotten her haircut. She’d been in better spirits after her hair cut, and despite the bruise, she’d actually been able to genuinely smile.

Her water bottle is empty by the time she finishes and decides to send the draft to Danny too, shooting him a text to let him know that she’d be publishing the post the next day, and she wants to know what he thinks.

Her next task would be to edit some of the photos for Instagram and come up with an appropriate caption. In reverse order, and featuring a content warning for facial injuries, Therese prepares each four photos. An edited print of her own art with the warning on it, one from the AIRD magazine exposé, one from the shoot with Danny, and finally one of her self portraits. She writes out the caption in a document on her computer, planning to post both it and the blog within the same hour.

_“The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotion. A lot has happened, not all of it good. I’ve written about it all on my blog (link in my bio) to the best of my ability. I am recovering as well as I can, and still slowly making art. Thank you to everyone who has purchased my art since the January Issue of Aird magazine came out, it means the world to me.”_

She would be tagging Carol, Aird Magazine, and Danny on their respective pictures.

She closes her laptop, turning around the face the painting she’d been working on.

On a whim, she digs through her supplies and finds a box of rocks she’d planned to use for something months and months ago but had never followed through. They were rocks for gardens, to enable drainage in the ground for larger plants.

Therese brings them over to her work station, and goes about pouring clear paint into a shallow tray, and then dumps a fair amount of cadmium red and dark brown red alcohol-based inks, which she mixes in haphazardly, before adding in a bit of plum coloured paint which she does not mix in at all.

She dumps the rocks into the shallow tray, only submerging them up to about a quarter of their size.

Therese takes a handful of the now bloody rocks, fitting as many as for in her grip.

She hurls them at her painting, the mix of colours spattering upon impact and leaving welts in the skin of her self portrait. She throws and she throws and she throws until she is breathing hard and sweat glimmers on her forehead. She dumps more rocks into the remaining paint mix and continues to hurl the rocks at the canvas with abandon. Not all of them hit home, some meet the fabric hung up behind her canvas, some clatter when they hit the protective mat on the floor.

Therese stones her canvas until there is no paint left in her tray, her hands ache, and her head throbs. 

She sighs and looks down at her hands, her fingertips stained red and her palms and fingers smudged grey from the rocks.

But she looks at her painting, with deep and jagged welts in her portrait’s skin, red like blood with shocks of bruised purple.

Therese closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

She loves it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you understand how much I appreciate your comments.  
> I would love to know if any particular lines stood out to you, be they dialogue or description. Knowing what my readers find poignant is one of my favourite things about sharing my work. 
> 
> 4 more chapters left!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we are finally at the crunch. Only 3 chapters left until this journey comes to an end! 
> 
> As usual, I've only done some light editing with the free version of Grammarly and some once-overs for glaring typos. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_You have reached the voice-mail box of_ Carol Aird,  _I cannot be reached at this time, for urgent messages please press 9 to be forwarded to my manager’s voice-mail box, after the beep please leave a detailed message and I will get back to you as soon as possible, thank you. [ Erroneous beep ] This voice-mail has a ten message capacity, the current number of messages is eight._

“I found the letter you left me while I was unpacking my suitcase. It’s been over a week, but I haven’t had it in me to do it until now. I’m sorry about my last message. I want you to know that if you ever actually hear them. I found the ring. I reread the whole letter and spent over an hour with the clothes trying to will myself to wash them. They all smelled like you, like the Chalet… One word in your letter has been stuck with me, ‘selcouth’… I said that do you that night when I was discharged. I called you my ‘selcouth adventure’, and you called me ‘a selcouth beacon of curiosity and talent’… I think I won a game of scrabble with that word once. I can’t get it out of my head now. Anyway… I published the blog and the Instagram posts yesterday and some feedback has been trickling in. I put up a google alert for your name and mine and a few articles have popped up. Your PR lady said she’d email me if anything cropped up on TV. I miss you, Carol, and I miss Rindy. That’s all for now. I’ve only got one more message left don’t I?”

 

Therese peers at the little bubble on a level sitting on the wide surface of a stool. The painting she’d made on Monday lies on it with sheets of protective fabric covering both the stool and the floor around it. She drops into a squat and sticks some folded cardboard under one foot of the stool. Satisfied that the stool is now level, Therese slips on a standard utility mask and switches on the ventilation fan which immediately comes to life and brings a steady hum to the studio space.

Therese reaches for a can of spray-on varnish and shakes it well before uncapping it. She sprays the whole painting, first horizontally and then vertically until it is completely covered with an even layer. She puts the can down and picks up her phone, setting a timer for ten minutes.

She pulls the mask down and slips out of the studio space, closing the sliding doors behind her and bee-lines for the kitchen with her phone and water bottle. She refills the water bottle and leaves her phone on the island, taking a deep swig. Sitting folded on the table is the letter Carol had written her, where Therese had left if earlier that morning. She picks it up looking it over now, almost casually. It has been folded and refolded, stuffed into a pocket and into a suitcase, crinkled, and examined repeatedly. Her gaze settles again on the word “selcouth” before she puts the letter down and starts thumbing her phone, looking through her store notifications about which paintings had sold and which orders she would have to fill.

Therese glances at the letter again, and on a whim, takes a photo of the line “a selcouth beacon of curiosity and talent”. She sends it to herself and goes back to her computer in the studio, holding her breath comically as she rushes in to fetch it. She leaves that on the table and starts digging through storage boxes within storage boxes on one of her large shelves. Abby hadn’t told her where most of her things were, but she had labelled them, so she finds what she’s looking for in a matter of minutes.

A drawing tablet and pen in a foam case. It hasn’t been used in a while, but she plugs it into her laptop and waits for it to load. The alarm goes off and she sighs, but when she sees that the drivers need to make updates she gets up and pulls the utility mask over her nose again and heads into the studio once more.

In the time it takes to apply another healthy coat of varnish, the updates finish and Therese is able to use the tablet with ease. It takes a minute for her to remember the muscle memory of it, but she opens Photoshop and the photo she’d taken from Carol’s letter.

Carefully she traces over the letters on a new layer, bringing Carol’s half cursive handwriting into stark relief against the white. Once satisfied, Therese turns the background white and looks thoughtfully at the finished product.

S E L C O U T H, written in Carol’s fine hand.

Therese makes a quick google search and checks the time. She puts the image file in the cloud and heads toward her room, unclipping the overalls’ straps and stepping out of them. Without getting out of the yoga shorts she’d been wearing underneath, she finds some passable trousers and puts them on before finding some socks.

She’s halfway into her coat with her phone rings.

“Hello?” She answers.

“It’s Danny.”

“Oh hi, can you hold on one sec.” Therese grabs her wireless headphones and slips them over her ears, turning them on and waiting for them to connect to her phone. “Okay— hi.”

“Are you busy? I can call back later?”

“No no go ahead.” She slips her cross body bag on and heads to the door. “I’m just on my way out.”

“Rick got on touch with me yesterday,” Danny says hesitantly.

“Okay,” Therese replies.

“He read your blog post. I’ll admit I’ve kinda been avoiding him since he was such a jerk to you, but he seemed really sincere. He asked me to reach out to you for him, to ask if you’d be willing to talk to him.”

Therese clicks the elevator button and listens to it hum as the car climbs to her level.

“He wants to talk to me?” She sighs.

“He admitted everything up front,” Danny says. “Every shitty thing he did since you ended things and he found out about you and Carol.”

“Even the part about watching the video.”

“Even that,” Danny says. “I gave him an earful about that by the way.”

Therese gives a slight laugh. “Thanks.”

“It was no one’s business but yours and Carol’s,” Danny says, and she can picture him shaking his head.

“Does he want me to unblock his number?”

“Actually he wanted to know if you’d meet him somewhere.”

Therese steps into the elevator and presses the ground floor button, the car begins to sink.

“Olive & Guinevere’s, little cafe, he’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“I know that place.”

“I’ll meet him on Friday at three.”

Danny laughs lightly. “And if he needs to reschedule?”

“He has permission to email me if he needs to reschedule.”

“Duly noted.”

“Thank you for playing the middle man.” Therese steps out of the elevator and into the lobby, nodding to the guard on duty at the security desk, he gives her a nod back.

“My pleasure,” Danny says. “I won’t keep you.”

“Alright, thank you. Don’t be a stranger.”

They hang up, and Therese steps out of her building, checking her phone for the address she’ll be headed to.

She streets are busy. She flags down a cab.

 

 

~*~*~*

 

 

In the back of the Olive & Guinevere cafe, with a table where she can watch the front door, Therese sits sipping at a large latte. She has left her muffin half eaten while she waits. She’s been getting emails from journalists and a talk show and some news outlets wanting to interview her, the news had travelled fast since she’d posted her blog. She’d fielded them all to Carol’s PR, with a note about rejecting them or postponing interview invitations until Hargess was apprehended and she nor Carol and Rindy were in danger anymore.

She didn’t want to be asked questions about this, have something so new and intimate be put on display more than it already has been. Her bruise healing, the swelling almost totally back to normal, which has lead to the discolouration beginning to spread out and migrate. It’s much yellower now, but red-purple shadows linger her nose and the bottom of the apple of her cheek. If she parts her hair just so she can obscure it a little.

Therese brings her latter to her lips and glances at the time. Rick is five minutes late. She rubs at her wrist, which is covered with a clear Saniderm bandage that peaks out of her long sleeve.

Finally, she sees Rick step into the cafe, he looks around and she lifts a hand, giving a slight wave. He comes over, taking a tentative seat across from her.

“Therese,” he says in greeting.

“Hi Rick,” she replies.

“Thank you for being here.”

She merely nods. “Aren’t you going to order anything?”

Rick looks over at the counter, rubbing a hand over his neck. “Right— yeah. I’ll be right back.” He gets up and goes over to the counter, looking over the menu while a barista waits for him to make his choice. It isn’t busy, there are plenty of open tables. Within a few minutes, he’s back opposite her with a cheese croissant and a double-double. He picks at the croissant awkwardly, taking one bite and chewing it thoughtfully before he sits back in his chair and looks at her earnestly.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Therese nods, rubbing at her wrist again. It itches.

“Are you sure about that?” she asks. “Or do you just want your guilt eased?”

A flicker of a pained frown crosses his face.

“I do feel guilty, Terry, ‘cause I said those ugly things— I broke your trust…”

Therese leans forward slightly, a slight glare in her eyes. “You watched revenge porn of me, Rick, you watched fucking revenge porn of me!” She says under her breath, almost hissing.

Rick swallows hard and struggles to keep her gaze, his own gaze flickering to the healing stitches and the bruise.

“You accused me of cheating on you and lying about it, and you essentially slut-shamed me,” she says, more quietly because that was the stuff that really hurt. His words. Because despite her own misgivings, and her inability to understand herself for three years with him, she’d trusted him and cared about him, and he just threw that out, choked on his resentments and treated her like her presence in his life wasn’t valuable beyond what she might have provided as a girlfriend. Not her friendship, or her support of his art.

“You broke up with me and the next time I saw you were covered in hickeys. Can’t you understand how that looks?”

“I understand how it looks, but I gave you an answer and you didn’t listen.”

“What about the last three years, Terry? Doesn’t everyone get to joke about the guy to turn a girl into a lesbian?”

“That’s just it, isn’t it?” Therese says sharply. “You get a joke, Rick. A harmless joke. Carol had cameras planted in her home, we had our  _first_  time recorded and put onto the goddamn web for every nosy perverted person to watch, I was fucking  _kidnapped_  Rick, I was hit in the face, and tasered and drugged! All because of Carol’s violently homophobic ex-husband… and you know what? You hurt me too because you acted like our relationship meant you were owed something of me, no matter how uncomfortable or difficult it was for me to be with you. I didn’t hate you, Rick, I hated myself for not being able to enjoy being with you. But none of this is about you, Rick,  _you_ didn’t turn me gay, I came to an understanding about myself  _by myself_.”

None of her words, no matter how angry, ever get any louder, only fiercer and more disappointed. Rick doesn’t speak, merely digests what she’s said, and finally nods.

“You didn’t deserve that Terry, you didn’t deserve what I said or did, and you didn’t deserve any of that other stuff.” He tears another piece off of the croissant. “I’m sorry about all of it, and I’m hoping I can earn your forgiveness.”

“That’s going to be difficult,” Therese says, “You watched the revenge porn, and I haven’t forgotten about the ugly texts you sent me after. You didn’t just break my trust, you completely shattered it.”

“I know, you were kind enough to meet me here.”

“It’s going to take time, this isn’t an easy fix.”

Rick nods solemnly. “I’ll do anything, I miss you, Terry. No matter what we are, I want you in my life and I know I don’t deserve it right now, but I’ll work for it.”

“I want you to be honest about why I’m not around— I know your mom will ask. You don’t have to give her the gory details but I don’t want there to be any falsehoods about why we’re not seeing each other, in any capacity.”

Rick manages a laugh. “I can do that.”

“I still don’t really want to be around you,” Therese admits. “I don’t think I’ll be comfortable with that for a while.”

She sees pain and regret, but also acceptance on Rick’s face.

“Okay— I can give you space.”

“I’ll unblock your number, but please only use it sparingly.”

Rick nods emphatically. “Okay.”

“Engagement on social media is also fine, but don’t push it.”

More nodding.

“I think the most I can handle is a… a professionally distant acquaintanceship. Our art circles are where I have to draw the line for now,” she takes a piece off her muffin and pops it in her mouth, chewing a bit before taking a sip of her latte to wash it down.

“I can live with that, thank you.”

Therese nods.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m getting through.” She rubs at her wrist again, the itch getting to her.

Rick raises a concerned brow. “I read your blog— Danny told you that right? I don’t remember if you said you’d hurt your wrist?”

Therese shakes her head. “It’s just itchy.” She tugs her sleeve up. “I got a tattoo on Wednesday.”

Rick cranes his neck to get a look at it.

“Selcouth,” he reads. “I’m not familiar with that word.”

“It means something unusual, unexpected or rare, but marvellous or wondrous.”

Rick smiles softly. “It’s nice.”

Therese nods, tugging her sleeve down.

“It’s her handwriting?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Rick starts eating his croissant now, and they sit in silence with each other, just eating and drinking their respective purchases. They don’t say anything else until they’re both finished. Therese slips her hat back on, followed by her sunglasses.

“I’m going to go now,” she says, standing and taking her coat off the peg near their table.

“Alright, yeah. Thank you— again.”

Therese gets her coat on and gets her phone off the table, slipping it into her pocket. Rick stands too, hovering by the table.

“Can I hug you?” he asks.

Therese hesitates. “No,” she replies, holding out her hand instead. He takes it, giving it a light squeeze.

“See you around,” he says. “Take care of yourself.”

“I’ll do my best. Thanks.” Therese takes her hand back slowly. “Bye Rick.”

She turns and heads toward the door.

“By Terry.”

She doesn’t look back.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

Abby Gerhardt’s office is spacious and full of tables and cork boards and miniatures of full homes and individual rooms, sketches of furniture and swatches of fabric. There is a bustle of people discussing and going over drafts, comparing colours, and drinking cups of tea or coffee.

Abby has her hair up in a slept-on bun, wisps of it sticking out in delicate ringlets near her temples, her makeup is intact, but a little faded. She walks past the different work stations with an iPad and Apple Pencil in hand marking things off of a checklist and jotting down notes. She indicates a certain print, and a certain colour swatch— matte or shiny or textured or smooth, and moves on to the next station.

The space is loud with voices.

“Abby!”

She turns around and watches a girl on the junior design team rush over to her.

“Your phone is ringing.” She hands it to Abby.

“Thank Dee,” Abby says, and accepts the call, heading to the other end of the large workspace.

“Abby Gerhardt,” she answers, “hold on a sec I’m moving somewhere quieter.” Abby puts her iPad on one of the less crowded tables and slips into the much quieter kitchen area.

“Abby?”

Abby’s mouth falls open in a perfect O, and she sucks in a sharp breath. “Carol?”

She hears a light laugh. “Hey, Abby.”

“You’ve really been leaving me hanging haven’t you,” Abby scolds lightly, sitting down on the nearest chair. She pushes some hair out of her face, leaving her hand on her forehead.

“Sorry, I needed to take some time to feel safe again.”

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

A pause, hesitation. Abby closes her eyes. Carol clears her throat. “As okay as I can be.”

“Yeah…”

“Have you— have you been in touch with Therese?” Carol’s voice breaks slightly when she asks.

Abby finds herself nodding. “A bit.”

“Is she okay?” Carol’s voice is hesitant and careful, as if one wrong word might shatter the world.

“The first week was hard for her, but she’s alright,” when Carol doesn’t say anything she adds, “I spoke to her on Saturday, and I’ve been keeping up with her social media.”

“So she’s okay.” The words are a bit resigned.

“She misses you.”

Carol doesn’t say anything.

“Have you gotten online much?”

“No.”

“Therese wrote an extensive blog post about what happened,” Abby says, “it went through your PR and Haynes. It’s… it’s touching.”

“Oh…”

“She got a haircut. And she’s been posting pretty openly about her injuries— her recovery.”

She hears Carol sniff and clear her throat again. “She got a haircut?” She’s clearly on the verge of, or already crying.

“Yeah, it looks really nice.”

There’s another pause, where Abby only hears Carol breathing. “Rindy is getting cabin fever. There’s a really nice playroom here, but she wants to go outside— play at the park… she got mad at me yesterday.”

“What about?”

Carol laughs thickly. “She said I’m sad and boring and that I was mean to leave Terry with a big boohoo on her face… ‘cause it’s so much easier to forget a booboo when you’re not bored.”

Abby shakes her head. “She’s a perceptive kid.”

“She also took a toy out of my hands and told me she would play by herself if I kept being fake happy.”

“ _Very_  perceptive.”

Carol sighs. “I hate feeling like I made the wrong choice— that even my four-year-old seems to think I did.”

“Well, she’s four, as perceptive as she is she won’t understand these concepts for a long time.”

“Yeah…” Carol sighs. “You think I made the right choice?”

Abby runs her hand over her hair. “I think you made a hard choice, for Rindy’s and your safety— and Therese’s.”

“I miss her.”

“She misses you too.”

Carol doesn’t say anything for a few long seconds.

“Carol?”

“Yeah?”

“Therese told me she left you a message last Friday… she had a panic attack or something and left you a voice mail— uh she said she felt terrible about it, and that you should ignore it.”

“Why was she having a panic attack?”

“She said she lost the ring you gave her,” Abby says softly.

“Oh…” a heavy exhalation. “Christ.”

“She was alright when she called me, she seemed really apologetic— actually she said her friend Danny invited her to his sister’s baby welcoming party.”

“Oh— I remember Danny. That’s nice.” She’s quiet again, and Abby just shares it with her.

“I’ve gotta get back soon,” Abby says.

“Would you be able to visit? I think it would do Rindy some good.”

Abby breathes a laugh. “Do Rindy some good.”

“And me too.”

“When?”

At last, Abby thinks she can hear Carol smile. “Sunday? Lunch”

“It’s production week, we’re on a crunch ‘til Thursday.”

“Thursday or Friday then?”

“Friday. Give me the address. How’s lunch sound?”

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

At one end of a long dining room table, covered with a protective layer of newspaper and a large, thick piece of paper. Rindy wields a black handled paint brush with a pallet of watercolours. Her canvas is full of greens and purples and reds, and she swirls the brush from edge to edge, splattering the paint in other colours. Carol sits on the other end, with her laptop and wireless headphones on one ear.

Eight messages are on display on her screen, she has already played seven of them. Her eyes are red with unshed tears, when she clicks on the eighth she clamps her hand over her mouth as soon as she hears the first word.

“Are you okay?” Rindy asks, and Carol clears her throat, hitting the space bar hard to pause the voicemail message.

“Yes— yes sorry. I saw something spooky.” Carol smiles reassuringly. “How’s your painting?”

“Good! It’s like Terry’s paintings.”

Carol stands up and looks over at Rindy’s canvas. “Wow, it really does.” Her hands shake as she reaches down to pick up her laptop. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

Carol walks out of the kitchen on and toward the living room where she sits heavily on the couch and places her laptop on the cushion beside her. She hits the space bar again and lets out a shaky breath, the tears welling in her eyes as Therese’s distressed and incoherent message plays out in her ears. A shudder runs through Carol’s chest and she represses a sob, swallowing hard as she listens to the message in its entirety. Carol wrenches off her headphones and leaves them in her lap. Carol presses her shaking hands against her eyes as another shudder wracks her body.

She takes a few deep breaths, wiping her eyes. After a few more grounding breaths she picks up the headphones again and presses play on the next message. Tears drip down her cheeks as she listens, more soberly now, nodding to herself, as she listens to the remaining messages. She wipes at her cheeks, sniffling dejectedly. Carol closes her laptop and places it on the coffee table.

“I’m gonna go upstairs for a few minutes, are you okay on your own?” Carol calls as she stands in the doorway, clutching at the frame.

“Yes, I’m fine Mumma.”

Carol heads for the stairs, passing a console table in the hall and catching her hip on it. The table rocks and the picture frames topple. Carol overreaches and falls into the table, all four frames fall, two shattering next to her while the others land on her lap. She yells when she catches herself on her forearms, some of the glass cutting into her arms.

“Mumma!” Rindy says, rushing out of the kitchen.

“Stay there!” Carol shouts, holding up her hand.

Rindy skids to a halt, eyes wide with horror.

“You’re bleeding!” Rindy exclaims, an edge of fear in her voice.

“I’m okay— I’m okay—” Carol gasps.

The doorbell rings and Rindy jumps.

Three and then four knocks follow the bell.

“It’s Auntie Abby— you can open the door,” Carol encourages.

Rindy bolts over to the door, reaching up onto her tip-toes to unlock the bolt. She opens the door with a grunt.

“Mumma’s bleeding! Mumma’s bleeding!” she shrieks as soon as Abby is in sight.

“What?”

Abby gets one look at Carol and steps into the apartment, shutting the door behind her.

“How long have you been like this?”

New tears drip down Carol’s cheeks. “Just now,” she says.

“Let’s get you up,” Abby shrugs off her jacket, using it as a barrier to get her hands under Carol’s arms and lift her up carefully as to avoid the glass.

“Stay away from the glass, Rindy,” Abby warns, “go to the kitchen, okay?”

Rindy doesn’t say anything just bounds away, half hiding behind her chair as Abby helps Carol over to the sink.

“I’ll get a chair,” she says and grabs one from the table, dragging it over to Carol.

“I’m fine.” Carol sinks shakily into the chair hesitantly. Her pants are stained with smears of blood. “There’s a first aid kit under the sink.”

“You’re not fine, sweetie.” Abby ducks to get out the first aid kit placing it on the counter.

“Does it hurt, Mumma?” Rindy asks, wringing her hands.

Carol puts on a brave face. “Not too badly.” She looks at Abby and they exchange a look.

Abby turns and walks over to Rindy.

“Can I take you up to your room? There’s a lot of glass down here and I don’t want you to step in it.”

“I don’t wanna leave Mumma’lone.”

“I’ll be with her, and I’ll come to get you as soon as it’s safe again, okay?”

A conflicted frown knits Rindy’s brow. She looks over at Carol who gives her an encouraging nod.

“Okay,” she says, and Abby scoops her up in a big hug and carries her out of the room.

Carol can hear the crunch of glass under Abby’s boots and sighs. She stands, leaning against the counter and turning on a strong stream of warm water. She hisses when she sticks her arms under it, clenching her jaw as blood and bits of glass find their way to the bottom of the shiny metal sink. Carol turns off the water, grabbing a bottle of peroxide with the hand of her less-damaged arm and uncaps it pouring it carefully over her arm, and trying to spot any more glass that might be stuck. Three pieces of decent size remain which she plucks out carefully and leaves in the sink. More peroxide, and then repeat on the other arm. Only one piece there.

“I could have done that for you,” Abby says as she steps over to her.

“I’m alright,” Carol says, though now that the adrenaline of the moment has begun to wash off, her hands are shaking again. She turns on the water again and holds her arms under the stream.

“I don’t think you are.”

“Wounded ego,” Carol deflects.

“You look like you’ve been crying.”

Carol turns off the water, and Abby hands her a hand towel to pat dry her light-bleeding arms.

“I fell on glass, Abby.”

Abby gives her a look, Carol doesn’t react to it.

“Sit down, please. I’ll clean you up.”

Carol sits and places one arm over the dish towel on the counter while Abby washes her hands and pulls out a few alcohol wipes.

“This’ll sting.”

“Yep.” Carol takes in a sharp breath as Abby cleans up the cuts on one arm and then the next.

“Okay, next step…” Abby takes out something akin to a disinfectant adhesive. “This will also sting.”

“Of course it will.”

Abby squeezes some of the liquid into the cuts and pinches them closed, smearing a small line over the top. Some only need a superficial layer. It all dries in a matter of minutes, and Carol is left with hints of red and shiny patches on her arms. The last step is applying a handful of non-women adhesive bandages of various sizes.

“I look ridiculous,” Carol says.

“I’ll get you a sweater or something,” Abby suggests.

Carol holds up a hand. “I just wanna get the class cleaned up first.”

Abby nods. “Where’s the broom?”

“Utility Closet. The vacuum’s there too. I’ll do that.”

“Okay. Lemme get you some shoes.”

Carol stuffs her bare feet into a pair of sneakers, and while Abby moves the picture frames out of the way and sweeps up the bigger glass, Carol takes the portable vacuum around the space and thoroughly ensures there isn’t any glass remaining, going so far as to vacuum the carpeted stairs, as well as nooks and crannies.

“I’ll need to re-frame these.” Carol carefully removes the back from the two broken frames, she frowns. “What is this…”

She pulls two folded notebook pages from the back of the frame, along with two extra photographs. She sits heavily into the chair she’d been standing next to when she realizes what she’s found. Carol places the photos in a square and reads the little notes over.

“You haven’t been eating much, have you?” Abby says, bringing Carol a black sweater. She drapes it over the back of Carol’s chair. “I’m going to find you something to eat.”

“Okay,” Carol says, not registering what Abby had said. She puts down the notebook pages and picks up the next frame, careful with the broken glass, and takes out the pictures. There are no secret treasures in there, so she looks in the next. Same result. Finally, she takes the back off the only unbroken frame and finds a second photo behind the first. The unposed companion to the posed photograph Therese had taken of her and Rindy.

Renewed tears drip down her cheeks, as she looks at the three pictures and the notes Therese had hidden in her Christmas gift.

“Are you okay?” Abby asks, sliding a warmed up muffin in front of Carol.

“What’s this?” Carol asks, wiping at her cheeks as she shrugs into her sweater.

“You haven’t been eating much have you?” Abby repeats, and Carol frowns. “Don’t tell me you haven’t, Carol.”

“I’ve been eating,” Carol says with an edge of defiance.

Abby fixes her with a knowing gaze. “Not enough. Your hands are shaking. You did the same thing when you were going through the divorce— eating like a bird.”

“I haven’t had the appetite.”

“So? Look what you did to yourself! You knocked over those picture frames and sliced your arms up!”

Carol runs a hand over her hair, grimacing lightly. She places her hand over the pictures. She shakes her head.

“I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

Carol looks at Abby earnestly. “I have to see her.” Her voice breaks.

Abby deflates, take a chair and positioning it opposite Carol’s.

“Therese is doing well, Carol. She’s just understanding the necessity of this.”

Carol shakes her head. “I feel so untethered, I’m not being a good mother— I can’t think right. I’m so scattered and Rindy is getting the brunt of it.” She presses a hand to her eyes and wipes away the tears, taking a shaky breath.

Abby looks over at the photographs, seeing the intimate subtlety in the images. She sighs.

“Don’t do anything rash, please.”

“Would you be able to stay with her?” Carol asks, looking pleadingly at Abby.

Abby sets her mouth into a thin line, but nods.

“I’m staying for dinner tonight, but I’m going home to pack a bag. I’ll be back tomorrow— around eleven. Alright?”

Carol nods. “Okay. Rindy will enjoy spending some time with you.”

Abby sighs. “Eat your muffin, Carol. I’m going to go upstairs and play with her for a bit.”

“Fine.”

“Everything you do to punish yourself hurts her too.”

Carol meets Abby’s gaze. Exhaustion and stubbornness, determination, and years of knowing each other live in their expressions.

“Go play with Rindy, I’m going to eat my muffin.”

“There you go.” Abby gives her a pat on the shoulder as she walks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed something in particular, like a snippet of description or dialogue, I'd love to hear what it is. I am very grateful for my readers and I love hearing what aspects of my writing stands out the most. 
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr @ BRIESDESAULNIERS


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit that I am extremely proud to have made it this far. I haven't updated for a while, and it seems I have a bad habit of being unable to write when it isn't a NaNoWriMo event. I really have to get out of it if I'm going to write as a career.
> 
> I will be posting chapter 24 within half an hour of this, and at the time of this posting am about to begin chapter 25. The last chapter of this fic. 
> 
> It may be a little messy, Grammarly and Word are the only things I used to edit spelling and grammar. 
> 
> I do hope you enjoy.

“Are you sure you can’t see the bruise?” Therese asks as she and Danny walk up the block from the bus stop toward Kimmy’s house.

“You think it’s visible because you’ve been living with it for nearly a month,” Danny says, walking backwards and looking at her face. “The sun is shining, and that tinted moisturizer you’ve got on it is doing a fine job. But I gave Kim a heads up anyway.”

“Alright fine.” Therese shakes her head, she might have considered breaking out her colour correction kit, but the last time she used a full face of makeup was for a photography event and this didn’t compare. No one needed a full face of makeup for a baby welcoming party, so she’d done the bare minimum to hide the remaining yellow and red smattering of discolouration, and if Danny told her he could barely see it then she’d try not to worry over it.

There are balloons tied to the front porch, blowing this way and that in the breeze. Some are clear with sparkles, some are white, others are green, some are yellow.

“This is cute,” Therese gently bumps one of the balloons with her finger, and Danny rings the bell and gives the front door three light traps.

“I like the ones with the sparkles,” Danny agrees.

The door opens.

“Hey Danny!” A woman with shoulder length hair greets him, she has light brown eyes and freckles and a broad nose and a contagious smile.

“Hey Mickey—” Danny hugs her, and she quickly ushers them inside. “This is Therese.”

“Hi Therese, it’s nice to meet you, Dan’s told me’n Kim a lot about you.” Therese expects to shake her hand but is only a little surprised by the light hug Mickey gives her.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Therese says with a smile. “Congratulations.”

“Let me get your jackets—” Mickey says with a beaming smile, taking Therese and Danny’s coats as soon as they’ve shrugged out of them.

Therese toes off her boots, and places them on a layer of newspaper lined up halfway down the hall.

“Everyone is through there, and the gift table is by the door— you can’t miss it.”

“Are you going somewhere?” Therese asks, watching Mickey grab her own jacket from the hall closet.

She nods. “Going for a quick grocery run. Out of non-dairy ‘Oat of this Swirled’ ice cream.”

“Is it still the only thing Kimmy can tolerate while she’s breastfeeding?” Danny asks casually like it’s old news.

“The nausea has let up a bit, but she finds it comforting.” Mickey shrugs. “Whatever keeps her happy and feeling good.”

“See you in a bit.” Danny ushers Therese into the main part of the house.

It’s a semi-open concept space, with the dining and living area combined into one— ideal for entertaining.

They aren’t the first to arrive, and Therese can see a woman washing her hands all the way up to her elbows in the open kitchen space.

“Let’s go wash our hands,” Therese says, moving toward the kitchen.

The woman greets Danny as she’s drying her hands on some paper towel.

“Nice to see you again Daniel!” she says, though doesn’t go for a hug or a handshake yet as he waits for Therese to thoroughly wash her own hands.

“You too! Have you seen Rayelle?” Therese can just hear his voice light up when he says her name, finding herself smiling.

“I have,” the woman says, voice taking on a too-cute-for-words tone. “Kimmy put her in her little bassinet, but I’m sure she’ll end up back in a wrap on Kimmy’s chest soon.”

Danny steps up and washes his hands, and the woman hands Therese the paper towel.

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m Therese, Danny’s friend.”

“Ah— Louise, I think we’re cousins.” She looks over at Danny, who nods in agreement.

“Kim would know for sure _how_ we’re related, but yeah we’re cousins.”

Therese laughs and hands Danny the paper towel in turn, and the three of them head into the living room.

“Danny!” Another woman exclaims, and Therese can only assume it’s Kim. Despite her light brown skin, and dark curly hair, she is undoubtedly Danny’s sister. They have the same freckles, nose shape, and smile.

They hug, and Danny kisses her cheek, “You hug me like you didn’t see me three days ago.”

“Got twenty-four years of hugs to catch up on, pal,” she retorts and turns to Therese.

“You must be Therese.”

“That’s me,” she nods hardly able to suppress her smile in the positive atmosphere.

Kim steps over and hugs her too, taking her a little bit by surprise. They’re clearly a hugging family.

“It’s nice to meet you, Therese— or can I call you Terry like Dan does?”

Therese laughs, “You can call me Terry, yeah.”

“Terry then. And it’s nice to finally put a face to a name.”

Therese glances over at Danny who only looks mildly embarrassed. “You talk about me that much?”

He shrugs. “Started with my creative interest, and then you had all sorts of stuff happening. I was worried about you, so it came out when I was with my family.”

Therese’s smile softens. “You’re a great friend, Danny— really,” she says much more quietly so the words are only for him and Kim who is still standing with them.

“I’m happy you’re here, Terry,” Kim says. “Dan gave us a heads up on what happened to you, so if you’re tired or need anything just let him, me or Mickey know.”

“Thanks, Kim.” Therese nods. “I’m alright, but thanks, I don’t want to take any attention away from you and Rayelle— it’s your party after all.”

Kim laughs. “Me and Ray have been the center of attention for weeks! I’m almost tired of it.”

“Let’s go see Ray before one of your friends steals her cute little butt away,” Danny says.

“They could certainly try!” Kim challenges, “but they wouldn’t get far.”

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

With fewer than half the guests remaining, the party had shifted to from standing and mingling to sitting and mingling to sitting and mingling on the floor around the coffee table, sipping virgin champagne and finishing off the pickings of a party platter; fruit, meats, cheese, vegetables and dip. Therese has a plate of her own with some of the meal they’d shared; macaroni salad with shredded barbecue chicken on the side, which she continues to eat while the guests around her chat and fawn over baby Rayelle.

Mickey is in the kitchen, going back and forth between there and the dining room to put the remaining food into Tuperwares. There’s plenty and she’s sure that the couple will have meals for at least a week. Less burden.

Gift wrapping and fabric bows are littered among them as well, and a clear recycle bag is filling up as people ball up the wrapping paper and toss it in. Kimmy has been showing another cousin of hers how to hold the baby in the crook of his arm. Therese has enjoyed glancing back and forth between that scene and Danny’s expression of mild concern every time Rayelle was passed into the arms of a new family member or friend.

“Terry do you want to hold her?” Kim asks, and Therese’s eyes widen.

“I don’t know,” she says.

“Oh— don’t you worry, plenty of people have held her today who’ve never held a baby before.”

Therese smiles sheepishly. “It’s not that I haven’t held a baby before, it’s just been… _years_.” Since she was at the boarding school. She had daycare duty for the teachers that lived on campus, as well as caring for the children and infants in the elementary side of the school— which she now understands, is essentially an orphanarium or kids who lost rich parents. They want their children not to be adopted so that they can go through the entire program and graduate as productive young members of society. But the young and cute ones are often adopted. She’d been eleven when she got there. Seven years is a long time she can’t imagine one’s entire young life in that place.

“I’ll help you,” Kim says, standing up again.

Therese gets up and sits on the sturdily cushioned couch. “Only sitting down, for now,” Therese insists.

Kim sits next to Therese with Rayelle in her arms. “Cradle or shoulder?”

Therese panics, “shoulder?”

“Okay here we go— you’ll want to support her bum and her back.” Therese holds her hands out, as Kim passes her the baby, and in one fell swoop, there is a warm little wriggly person in her arms.

“Wow,” Therese whispers, sighing once she’s sure she’s stable with the hold. Other guests, including Danny who looks up from his spot beside her with a triumphant grin.

Rayelle’s hand clutches at Therese’s shirt, and neck, her little hand curling out of and into a fist.

“She looks comfortable,” Mickey says, ducking her head into the room. Therese beams at her.

“Let me take a picture,” Louise, Danny’s cousin, interjects. She stands, maneuvering over legs until she’s got a good spot, and brings up her camera. It is neither a professional nor an amateur camera. She takes a photo, and when she looks at the result she smiles. “Lemme show you.”

Danny scoots over and gives Louise room, and peers down at the little screen preview. She notes first that her bruise, in fact, does not show in this light, and she then notes the blissed-out expression on Rayelle’s face.

“Oh, that is really cute—” she squeaks, hand coming up and gently stroking Rayelle’s baby-soft hair. She finds her eyes stinging with tears and almost lifts one hand to wipe her eye. She doesn’t though, she lets the tear bead and fall, and she laughs.

“Oh, honey…” One of the women says, and they all laugh lightly.

“I swear I’m not usually this sappy,” Therese says, blinking the tears out of her eyes. Her throat betrays her, voice thick with emotion. “I have a concussion, so my emotions are a bit intense lately.” She laughs, almost at herself, at how overwhelmed she feels. The most positive kind of overwhelm she could be feeling.

Kimmy giggles beside Therese.

“What?” she asks.

“Ray fell asleep.”

“Oh—”

Everyone collectively says “awww”.

Therese settles back against the couch, still holding Rayelle, prepared to give her back to Kim at her request.

“How did you get concussed?” A man and a friend of Mickey’s asks.

Therese raises her eyebrows, blinking her last tears. She doesn’t need to look at Kimmy and Danny to know they’re exchanging concerned looks. “Uh— there was a…” she couldn’t possibly tell all these people that she was attacked and kidnapped two weeks ago, could she? That wouldn’t be appropriate. “An incident.” Too quickly. Danny puts a hand on her leg in encouragement. “Two weeks ago. I got a little banged up.” She says with a sheepish, nervous laugh.

“Anyone want to take home some cake?” Mickey asks before anyone can ask Therese more follow-up questions.

Therese looks at her and mouths ‘thank you’ to her as people chime in about wanting cake.

“So, you said you were a painter, I remember hearing Dan mentioned you’d collaborated.” A welcome question.

Therese smiles, looking down at her friend with a look of pride on her face. She pats Rayelle’s back, a comforting feeling warming her.

“We have, we did a photo shoot where he captures a painting session of mind.”

“I’d be happy to show you the results,” Danny says, flashing her a grin. “They’re on my website and social media.”

“Let’s take a look then, can you pull it up on the tablet?”

“Sure can!”

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

With Danny busy with Mickey in the kitchen, Therese had begun to help Kim assess and organize the gifts that had been brought for both mother and baby. She cannot help glancing over her shoulder at Rayelle every so often, tickles by the way she plays with the tiny plush bear with her in her bassinet or looks with wonder at the mobile above her head.

“Without making Danny look bad,” Kim says softly, the others wouldn’t hear her, “he told us about what happened to you, he was really worried.”

Therese looks at her with a slight flush of embarrassment. “I tried not to worry him…”

“Any good person would be worried for their friend over this stuff,” Kim insists. “The violent ex, having your relationship broadcast like that. And getting kidnapped, Terry, you’ve been through a lot.”

Therese nods. “Yeah.”

“There was a kid involved, right?”

Therese frowns. “Yeah, she’s four.”

Kimmy gives her a sympathetic smile. “You miss her, don’t you?”

“Almost as much as I miss _her_ ,” she says. “I didn’t think I’d feel it as much as I do.” Therese puts her hand over her chest.

“I hope he’s caught.”

“Me too.”

 

Therese and Danny share an Uber on the way back to their places. The sun heading down toward sunset at a steady pace.

“What did you think?” Danny asks.

“Of your family?”

“Yeah.”

Therese smiles. “They’re lovely. Kim looks like you.”

Danny laughs. “Yeah, that was the first thing we noticed too. Nose and freckles, right?”

“And smile,” Therese says. “Definitely the smile.”

“Really? I dunno if I see it.”

Therese is quiet for a moment as they pass through an intersection.

“You’re lucky,” she says, “to have found them.”

“I really am.”

It isn’t long before the car pulls up outside Therese’s new apartment building, and she slips out.

“Thanks for inviting me, it means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Danny says. “I’ll text you.”

“Have a good night.”

She watches the car pull away before heading inside. From the inner door, she can see that the guard isn’t at the security desk. Once she gets inside, heading toward the elevators, she sees a “back in ten minutes” sign on the desk.

The stench of paint reaches her nose when the elevator doors open on her floor. She hadn’t left any materials out, had she?

What beeping is that?

Is her door open?

She stops only a few feet from her front door, her whole body going cold.

The living room was completely tossed, furniture kicked over and stomped on.

Therese coughs at the stronger stench of paint and holds her scarf over her nose as her heart rate kicks up in her chest.

Leave, turn around right now, leave.

But then she spots it, a smear of red— too much red, near the studio space.

“No!” she exclaims, rushing inside, avoiding the upturned furniture and pushing the sliding door of the studio space the rest of the way open. “No.”

STAY AWAY

Dripping red paint on the far wall of the studio, on some of her finished pieces.

It didn’t work. Carol had put so much effort into keeping her safe. It didn’t work. It didn’t work.

Therese backs away when she realizes how fresh the paint is. Back towards the door, back towards the elevators.

She should call something right now.

“Oh—!” it’s a wounded cry that has Therese whirling around.

Carol. A horror-struck expression on her face, desperate and panicked staring at the red paint on Therese’s wall.

She runs away. Bolts right back out the door before Therese can say anything.

“Carol!” Therese rushes after her.

How could she have fled so quickly? Therese watches Carol disappear into the stairwell, the DOWN button on the elevators glowing, but only signalling that they were floored away.

“Carol stop!” Therese shouts, catching the heavy door to the stairwell just before it closes.

Emotion swells and threatens to choke her as she heads down the stairs, hardly keeping up with Carol who is two flights below her already.

Carol sobs, and tries to hide it, but Therese lets the tears fall when the angry, hot tears burn their way down her cheeks.

“You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to run away!” Therese shouts. “You were wrong!”

“I was wrong I was wrong! It’s not safe!”

“Carol!”

Gasoline, chlorinated water and dust punctuate the air as they descend further.

The parking garage.

“Carol— Carol, please! Stop! Please!” Therese pleads, barely a flight behind the other woman now. But Carol doesn’t stop. She heads straight out into the parking garage.

“Carol—” Therese gives a shriek, missing a stair and falling. The banister is her only saviour but even then she falls awkwardly, skidding down the rest of the stairs and landing heavily at the bottom.

She starts crying as the startle wears off, her body setting to quivering.

“You were wrong!” Therese shouts hoarsely. “You were wrong! I was never safer alone!” She chokes out a sob.

“You left me alone! Alone! I needed you!” She would have to call someone. The police? Abby? Could she even get up?

“You opened me up and filled me with the most love I’ve ever felt in my life! — and then you left me with a gaping hole in my chest!” The anger crawls out of her throat sharply. “You’re a coward! I would have done anything for you! Anything to keep you safe!”

Therese swipes at the tears on her cheek, smearing grey dust over her face and rubbing off some of the makeup she’d put on to cover her bruise. She just sobs then, just cries, spent and angry and alone.

 

 

*~*~*~*

 

 

“Are you hurt?”

Therese looks up. Carol’s eyes are red with tears and she looks tired.

“Bruised ego,” is Therese’s reply. “You heard me?”

Carol nods.

“Where is Rindy?” She sniffs.

“With Abby, at the house I rented.”

A wave of betrayal hits Therese like a truck.

“I only contacted her yesterday,” Carol says, seeing the way Therese’s expression turns.

She comes over to Therese and offers her good arm to help her up.

Therese leans against the wall, looking away from Carol as new tears well in her eyes.

“You have dust on your face,” Carol says, taking a packet of wet wipes out of the main pocket of her bag. Therese closes her eyes as Carol gently wipes her cheek clean.

“Oh,” Carol says, seeing the bruise now that it’s uncovered. Green and brown with one corner of reddish black remaining.

“Still ugly,” Therese says. “Can I have another of those?”

Carol gives it to her. Therese wipes off the rest of her face, even the minimal amount of makeup she’d put on now making her feel grimy.

“I’m sorry,” Carol says.

Therese just keeps wiping her face, her backside and calf are aching sharply from falling and the threat of tears is still far too present for her to form words until she has roughly wiped her whole face clean.

“Why now?” Therese asks, avoiding eye contact.

“I listened to your messages.”

Therese shuts her eyes, almost wincing.

“I’m sorry,” Carol repeats. Therese nods.

“I found the ring,” Therese says defeatedly.

“Oh. Good.”

Therese frowns, the vague scent of gasoline always present in parking garages is now intermingled with the same paint stench from upstairs. Her head aches.

“You cut your hair…” Carol says, just about to reach up and touch a lock of Therese’s hair when she holds up a hand and looks her in the eye.

Splattering, footsteps, a wet hiss, a grunt.

“Where is your car, Carol?” Therese asks, and Carol’s eyes widen.

Therese pushes past Carol and into the garage.

“Therese wait!”

She doesn’t see anyone when she stops. But he couldn’t have gotten away already. She would have heard him. Everything echoes in a parking garage.

“My fucking car!” Carol stalks past Therese, fear quickly turning into anger.

The car has the same red paint sprayed on it with the same vague threatening message: STAY AWAY. But something drips from it, something clear, but too thick to be water, adding to the paint stench.

“I’m calling Jareau,” Carol says, taking her phone out of her pocket.

Paint thinner.

Then she sees him. Masked. Standing from a crouch two cars away. A bottle, a rag. Fire.

“Carol!”

The Molotov smashes into the windshield of Carol’s car.

It’s like an explosion, flames leaping and licking.

The floor!

“Carol move!” Therese grabs her, dragging her back. Too late.

Carol’s coat is on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what parts stood out to you or if anything made you particularly emotional or surprised you!
> 
> I changed my tumblr url, it is now TALLDYKE. You can search up my blog to find updates on me when I'm not posting here.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's likely the quickest succession of updates you'll ever get from me! I powered through 23 and 23 for the first 7 days of Camp Nanowrimo, and am so excited to be on the last chapter. Thank you for coming along on the journey with me. 
> 
> I will be posting chapter 25 in the next few days. 
> 
> As usual, this isn't edited beyond what Grammarly or Word caught. I do hope you enjoy regardless.

Therese takes Carol’s coat by the shoulders and tears it off of her with such force that Carol staggers and falls over. Her phone has clattered to the floor and her bag lies mere feet away. Therese stomps out the flames, coughing.

An alarm starts blaring and the sprinkler system hisses to life just.

A door slams.

He’s gone.

Water quickly soaks them.

The flames on the car put up a good fight, but the sprinklers are effective.

Therese picks up Carol’s phone and coat, slipping the former into her pocket. The coat is charred and wet, Therese gives it a shake, trying to get some of the dust off from the grimy floor. The sprinklers continue their shower and the alarm continues to blare.

Carol gets up.

“Leave it,” she says, and takes Therese’s face between her hands and kisses her.

Therese whimpers, but drops the coat again, hands finding Carol’s shirt and gripping it desperately.

Carol’s fingers slip into Therese’s short, wet hair, cradling her head as if it is the most precious thing in the world.

“We should go outside,” Therese says, eyes swimming with renewed tears when she pulls away. “You need to call Jareau, he needs to know about this.” She hands her her phone.

Carol nods, pressing another briefer kiss to Therese’s lips before grabbing her now wet bag off the garage floor.

Therese makes her way toward the exits, head thoroughly throbbing now. She can hear Carol behind her.

She presses her fob against the garage door panel and its own mechanical groan joins the already present cacophony. She presses the button to keep it open and as soon as the door is open enough for her to pass through, she does.

It’s a rush of cold that she’s greeted with, it’s a rush of clean air, and a momentary rush of quiet until the piercing presence of fire trucks and emergency vehicles make themselves known. Other tenants stand by, in sweaters and sneakers or slippers, dressing gowns. Some have hats and scarves on, but most of them are not dressed for the weather.

Some smoke billows out from the garage.

A fire truck comes to a halt not too far from them, two other emergency vehicles stop closer to the entrance.

Another tenant beckons for the first responders to follow him, but Therese cannot make out what he shouts.

“Hey!” A uniformed fireman rushes over to them.

Therese points into the garage. “Someone threw a Molotov at a car covered in paint thinner.”

“The sprinklers put it out,” Carol adds.

“Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” Therese says.

“No,” Carol replies.

“Please go to the truck, my colleagues will take care of you.”

The fireman radios his colleagues and two more uniformed firefighters join the first and head into the garage with plenty of gear on their backs.

They are given thermal blankets and bottles of water. Paramedics separate them briefly to examine them.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” Her paramedic asks, looking at her eyes with a little penlight.

“I have a headache, my throat and chest hurt, my eyes are stinging,” she says, the words coming out hoarsely. She coughs. “But I was recently concussed.”

“How long ago?”

“Two weeks? Maybe closer to three.”

He gives her two ibuprofen and sets her up with an oxygen mask and tells her to keep drinking the water she was given. He leaves her sitting on the back of the ambulance. She cranes her neck and gets a look at Carol who is on the phone, intermittently putting her own oxygen mask over her mouth and nose, presumably while the person on the other end speaks.

The paramedic returns.

“I’m going to clear you. But should your symptoms worsen go to the ER.”

Therese nods.

A policeman approaches her.

“I was told you were in the garage at the time of the fire.”

“Yes, that’s right.” She motions at Carol on the phone, “her ex-husband is at large for at least stalking, unlawful surveillance, and a murder charge— she’s probably on the phone with the case detective.”

The officer considers this answer and begins to turn away. Carol stops just short of running into him.

“Therese—”

“Ma’am I need to ask you some questions,” the officer asks, and Carol looks at him.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I have a detective Jareau on the phone for you,” Carol says.

Somewhat startled, he takes the phone and steps a few feet away, beginning to speak in a very serious tone with Detective Jareau.

Carol sits down next to and a step below Therese on the back of the ambulance.

“You had oxygen too,” Therese says.

“I’m fine. If I feel worse later, they told me to go to the ER.”

“They told me the same thing.”

Carol leans her head on Therese’s lap and Therese carefully places her hands over the back of Carol’s head, stroking her hair.

“You should come to the house I rented. There’s a big fancy fence and a good security system on the place.”

“This place had a good security system,” Therese deadpans.

From the front of the building, a man is wheeled out on a stretcher.

“That’s the security guard,” Therese says.

“He wasn’t at his desk when I went in.”

“There was a ‘be back in ten minutes’ sign on the desk.”

Carol sits up and looks at Therese.

“Will you come?”

Therese takes off her oxygen mask and sets it aside, looking down at her hands.

“Yeah.”

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

The tenants are eventually allowed back inside, though a team had gone up to Therese’s apartment to assess the damages and the threat painted on her walls. The police had further questions for Carol but once they understood the case Therese was cleared. The thermal blankets did little to make her feel any less disgusting in her damp clothes, but they were allowed into the lobby after a while.

“You should go ahead. I don’t want to keep you waiting in your wet clothes.”

“I don’t have the address.”

Carol texts it to her then.

“I’ll call you a cab, they’ll charge the fare to my account.”

“I’ll text Abby to let her know I’m coming— or do you want to?” Therese asks.

“I did.”

“Oh.”

Carol looks at her seriously. “I don’t think I’ll be too long. They just want to get a clearer picture.”

“But long enough to send me home ahead of you.”

Carol nods. “Yeah, you’re damp, and it’s cold out, and you can’t change your clothes, and you’re concussed.”

“Less chaos would be nice, yeah.” Therese laughs.

Carol smiles.

“How long will it take for the cab to get here?”

“A few minutes.”

“I’m going to go wait outside now, see if this might help the headache better than the ibuprofen.” She indicates her vaporizer pen in its little case in her large coat pocket. Carol nods.

“Alright.”

Carol takes Therese’s hand and gives it a squeeze. Therese squeezes back.

“See you later.”

“Keep me in the loop,” Therese says.

“I will.”

She goes out and waits on the sidewalk, taking slow and deep pulls from her vaporizer, feeling much better within the few minutes it takes for the cab to arrive.

The drive puts the evening from a pink and purple sky to one of navy blue, and she finds herself tired. How could such a lovely day turn into something so intense in so little time?

It’s a forty-minute drive.

Therese thanks the driver, they’re only a few addresses away from the one Carol had given her, so she walks up toward the house, which seems suitable because it has a fence around it.

She enters the front garden and heads up the walkway to the door, feeling the chill get back into her bones now that she’s out of the cab. Therese reaches out to press the doorbell. Its ring is a sharp tone that makes her ears ring.

The door shudders as a gust of wind leaves Therese grimacing. The door opens just a little, revealing a crack of light, around the door. It’s a heavy door. It had swung closed on its own. Despite the knob and lock being damaged.

Now Therese feels cold and it isn’t because of the weather.

She takes her phone out of her pocket and slips it into her boot, standing and pushing the door the rest of the way open. It creaks loudly and she steps inside.

The entrance is closed off by another door, frosted glass, so she can only colour and vague shapes through it.

She turns the knob, which is still intact and pushes it open slowly.

“Do not fuck with me Abby, I know she’s here.”

Therese’s heart kicks into gear when she hears Harge’s threatening voice.

“She isn’t! She went with Carol!”

Something shatters and Therese clamps a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out in surprise. Abby does cry out, a startled sound, and Therese finds it a small mercy in not hearing any pain.

“Someone might still be at the door,” Abby warns defiantly.

Therese rushes over to the kitchen island and ducks behind it.

“Let’s go find out.”

“Harge!” Abby protests.

“Come on!”

Harge drags Abby from down the hall, a too strong grip on her shoulder as he shoves her in front of him one-handedly. In his other hands is a gun, which he holds with deliberateness.

“The door—”

“Shut up!”

The front door bangs open again when a gust of wind rushes into the house. Harge stops short and holds up the gun.

“It was the wind!” Abby says tearfully.

Therese slips her phone out and texts Carol without looking. HE’S HERE.

Harge pushes Abby aside and she staggers and falls into a heap, crying.

Therese slips her phone back into her boot. She glances down and sees vague grey wet boot prints on the floor.

Harge approaches the island.

“Fucking bitch.” He curses, lunging at her.

Therese scrambles away, boots slipping on the tile but manages to get up and keep a few feet between them until a gunshot rings out and she screams.

Abby screams too, wood from the floor having splintered and sent wood fragments into her face, little smears of blood drips down her cheek and face.

Therese tries to go over to her, but Harge grabs her by the hair, and she screams again. Pain rockets through her face when he strikes her with the gun. Her vision goes white then black then white again and her legs buckle.

He lets her drop.

 

 

*~*~*~*~

 

 

When she wakes up her head is splitting with a focal point of pain on her upper cheek and nose. She is wide awake the second she tries to take a breath through her nose. She can barely get it in.

Her mouth is taped over with duct tape. Her mouth tastes of blood.

Her hands are also bound with duct tape, but she brings her arms up and peels the blood wet tape off her mouth, and chokes. She spits out blood, and once she’s finally able to breathe she wipes her bound hands across her nose, taking dried blood and gnarly clots away with one swipe and then another.

Her nose starts bleeding again, a slight trickle, but she can breathe.

Her other senses start catching up with her then. Sounds coming to her like she’s underwater.

_He_ _’s exacerbated the concussion._

Shouting. Harge and Abby.

“Open this fucking door, Abby!” Banging on the door. “Give me my daughter!”

Therese doesn’t understand Abby’s response, she’s further away, or somewhere else.

Her fingers are tingling, the tape too tight around her wrists. Therese brings the tape to her mouth and starts to bite and tear at the layers of tape. Smears of blood make their way onto her hands and sleeves and the tape as she bites and tears and spits bits of tape and blood onto the floor. Once she makes it about halfway, she yanks her wrists apart. They ache something serious, but she frees her hands and the tingling calms in her fingers.

He’d done a more half-assed job taping her legs, she has far more wiggle room with these, as he’d taped over her legs and boots. Therese tries to tear the tape with her nail but bunches it up as her coat sleeve. She rolls her sleeve over it again, and then purposely goes about rolling the whole it up and tearing it away from her pants and boots until she’s able to roll it off her legs entirely.

“What the fuck did you put in front of the door! Let me in! Let me in Abby! I will shoot you!”

“Not if she’s in here! You won’t shoot me if she’s in here!”

“Give me my daughter Abby! Where is she!?”

He gives up banging on the door and stomps further into the house. Every room he tears through, and even with the splitting headache and dizzy underwater disorientation, she knows exactly where he is.

Therese reaches into her boot and grabs her phone; the battery is at 3% and she has several texts and missed calls. She has to wipe her hand on her pants before the touch screen responds to her slick fingers. She pulls up Detective Jareau’s contact information, realizing she hadn’t used it at all since he gave it to her. She shares her location with him and a message: HESHWRE. She barely manages to hit send before her screen freezes and goes black. She puts the phone back into her boot.

In a delayed sort of way, she sees the entrance door slowly swing open, and relief rushes over her to see Carol’s face. And then dread when she realizes that she isn’t with the police.

The horror on Carol’s face makes her ache when she sees all the blood on the floor by Therese, the splintered wood floor and the smears and droplets of blood by them. Therese watches Carol freeze as Harge tears into the next room.

For a few seconds, she thinks Carol is coming to her, but one second Carol is reaching out in her direction, the next she has Harge’s gun in her hand.

_He just left it there._

“Norinda!” Harge calls, urgent, but far less threatening than he’d sounded with Abby. “Rindy— sweetie, it’s Daddy, come out now!”

A deep anger sets itself on Carol’s face and she turns her gaze on Therese, her eyes swimming with hot tears.

Therese shakes her head— it makes her very dizzy.

Carol turns away, and Therese’s vision swims with her own tears, terrified tears.

“No—” she barely croaks out, but Carol is already gone out of Therese’s sight.

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

Adrenaline is a hell of a mental clarifier. Her renewed head trauma, her senses are dialled up too high and she can’t focus on just one.

A gunshot.

A yell.

Furniture clattering, banging, something shatters.

A clipped scream.

Another bang.

Therese drags herself up, clinging to the counter. She grabs a knife, something small but sharp, that she grips tightly as she tries to make her body move. The cacophony is her heartbeat is the only thing she can hear besides the sounds of the fight in the other room.

She gets two steps away from the island when a second gunshot stops her cold.

There are no sounds after that.

Then her ears start ringing.

Her knees buckle and she drags herself back against the cupboard doors.

She hears a scraping down, something heavy against the floor, but far away.

Therese is shaking, renewed tears blurring her vision, which has a red tint to it on the left side. She blinks and blinks and shakes and shakes.

_He_ _’s going to kill me._

_He_ _’s going to kill Abby._

Abby.

She’s there in the hallway, staring at Therese with a horrified look on her face, the same kind Carol had had on hers. Abby’s face is smeared with blood and the right side has a few dark marks on it from where she’d been hit with the wood splinters. She too disappears, leaving Therese alone in the kitchen.

She hears a choked sob from rooms away. A wail.

“Green rabbit! Green rabbit!” She hears Abby yell, much louder than she could have expected.

Therese startles when a cabinet door opens two away from where Therese sits and watches Rindy crawl out. She’s wearing blue footie pyjamas. Her cheeks are soaked with tears and rubbed-red-raw from wiping them over and over. Clutched in her fist is the green rabbit Therese had bought her at the animal exhibit.

Rindy looks at her, tears dripping down her cheeks when she looks at Therese. She drops the green rabbit and lets out a shriek of a sob.

“Mama!” She screams and rushes over to Therese and collapses into her arms clinging to her desperately.

Therese starts crying too, chest shaking with tears and shock. She wraps her arms around Rindy’s little body and clings to her as well.

She shuts her eyes against the blue and red lights that cut into her when the front door opens and Detective Jareau comes in wearing a tactical vest and with a gun in hand.

He shouts something as more police enter the house. One quickly moves over to Therese and Rindy’s side, standing guard by them.

Therese strokes Rindy’s hair, blinking against her tears and sees Abby and Carol come into view.

Carol’s mouth is bloody, and Abby holds out the gun, upside-down by the grip and passes it off to the nearest officer.

She says something, and three officers, including Jareau rush into the back.

Therese watches the police officer disarm the gun, and put it into an evidence bag, gun separate from the clip and discharged round.

Rindy turns in Therese’s lap, still sobbing.

“Mumma!” She sobs, and Carol cries out.

“There’s so much blood,” she exclaims, rushing over to them.

“She’s fine,” Therese says, just louder than a whisper, and loosens her hold on Rindy. Carol tries to take her, but Rindy continues to cling to Therese. “She’s fine, it’s my blood, it’s my blood,” she repeats. “She’s fine, she’s fine.”

Carol cradles both of them.

“You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine…” she whispers against Therese’s forehead. “You’re okay.”

“Terry, Terry, Terry, Terry,” Rindy murmurs and feels the girl’s hand on her cheek.

“I’m fine,” she promises, but her head is still splitting and even sitting down she feels unstable and like she’s going to fall over. “I’m fine.”

“The paramedics are here.”

“Terry, Terry, Terry?”

“Rindy come with me, baby, the doctors need to help Terry.”

Sobbing, a weight lifted off of her.

“We’ll be right behind you, Therese! You’re not alone!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Everything falls away and she’s left with little more than the echo of Rindy’s heartbroken “Mama!” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what stood out to you, be it something that made you emotion, or even something that surprised you. Your feedback is so appreciated. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ TALLDYKE to keep up with me when I am not posting on ao3.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end! This journey is complete! Thank you so much for taking it with me!   
> I have to admit I forgot that I'd had Danny and Carol meet earlier in the book so please forgive me.   
> I also began writing this as a novel and ended up using "find & replace" to put the canon names back in so if you see any discrepancies with regards to names do let me know and I'll fix that right up! 
> 
> As usual Grammarly and Word are the only things checking the spelling and grammar so there are bound to be typos. I hope it won't impede your reading experience. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Therese lies in another hospital bed, in a private room.

Carol sits in an easy chair by the window, the shades are drawn but they can be seen through on their side, it’s sunny. She holds a soft ice pack wrapped in a towel-like fabric against her lower jaw. A dark red, blue and purple bruise has bloomed there on the left and reaches the side of her mouth.

She glances over at Therese, who has been asleep but responding well per the doctor’s observations.

_He hit her with his gun._

It hadn’t just knocked her down, it had struck Therese in the upper cheek and carried on to fracture her nose. That’s why there had been so much blood. Heads bleed a lot.

A new bruise has formed on Therese’s other cheek, but the other has not yet fully healed. Traces of green and yellow and one small line of black remain. The other is angry, black and red and blue, with a small scrape where some sharper edge had been able to break the skin with the force of Harge’s blow.

She’d looked like a massacre when Carol had come into that house. Recklessly.

But not as reckless or self-assured as Harge just leaving his gun on the kitchen island while he stormed through the house looking for Rindy.

Carol glances at her daughter, curled up at Therese’s side, which she’d done at the earliest convenience. She’d fallen asleep and has rested almost as long as Therese has, unassisted. They’d cleaned her up and put her in a fresh pair of pyjamas, but she was otherwise unharmed.

Not physically anyway. There’s no telling what she’d heard while she hid in the cabinet under the sink.

Abby appears at the door with a large bag of food.

Her face had not been spared either.

Little brown scab marks had begun to develop where the least severe splinters had struck her, and three stitches lie where the worst one had landed. There are three other stitches, single stitches, under the larger set that remind Carol of a constellation. Abby had already applied an ointment to her small but angry-looking wounds and looked about the healthiest out of the three of them.

She comes over to Carol and puts the bag of food on the table, looking over at Therese and Rindy before taking her own seat.

“I should have tried to warn her,” Abby says softly, voice hoarse. “I knew she was coming I should have tried to text her.”

“You did the best you could.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

“We’re all alive,” Carol says, but even to her own ears, it’s obvious she doesn’t quite believe herself.

“Might not have been without her,” Abby says.

Carol looks at her, an expression requesting elaboration.

“The gunshot the caused this,” she motions at her face, “it went through her coat first.”

Carol frowns.

Abby holds up a hand. “He was distracted— overwhelmed,” she explains. “He didn’t know where to aim. A foot one way or the other and he would have.”

Carol wrings her hands. “He really fucked up her face, Abby.”

“Bruises heal, and while it might take a bit more time, so do concussions.”

“He hated me and all I came away with was a bruise and a bitten tongue.”

Abby reaches over and puts a hand on her knee. “You don’t deserve even that, and she certainly doesn’t deserve what she got. But he’s gone, Carol. He’s gone. There’s not a damn thing he can do to hurt you anymore. You’re free.”

A small smile plays at her lips at those words.

“I’m free,” she agrees.

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

Therese squints against the light when she flicks the switch in the hospital room bathroom. The face in the mirror is undoubtedly hers, but the new presence of purple and red and black and blue is rather jarring. The bloody eye is probably the most jarring. A swipe of red in the bottom white of her eye. Her nose being fractured had caused a bit of bruising on the other side of her face too, making her look tired as the brown shadow crept. If she could sleep on her left side on an ice pack, she might be able to use gravity to avoid much spread on the right.

“Not in shock?” Carol asks from beyond the door.

“No,” Therese replies. Carol appears over her shoulder in the mirror.

“Now that you’re up the nurse is probably going to get you to ice that— get the swelling down.”

“Yeah.” Therese turns the tap on and sticks a hairbrush under it before taking it to her hair and taming her short brown locks. She sighs, feeling a bit more human. She sets the brush aside. Carol hands her a washcloth and Therese wets that too, under hot water, and presses it to her whole face. She gives a satisfied moan, prompting a laugh from Carol, and making Therese grin as she begins to gently wash her face of sleep and whatever grime and grit the nurses hadn’t been able to take care of.

“Ow—” she tries to sober her expression, the movement making her injury smart.

“Don’t smile,” Carol begs, reaching out and rubbing Therese’s upper arm.

Therese manages to sober her expression more, but the smile remains in her eyes. She feels fresher when she’s done wiping her face.

“I’m gonna do my teeth and the saline spray now,” Therese says, “I’m sure that’ll be gross, so I’ll keep that to myself.”

Carol makes a face. “As long as you’re sure.”

“Mhm, I’ll keep the door cracked if I need anything,” Therese says, “Every time I breathe, I smell blood, I’m sure I’m in for it.”

“Good luck,” Carol jokes.

She closes the door, leaving just an inch of space open to leave Therese her privacy. Abby and Rindy had gone to the playroom for a while as her energy had sprung right back up and she needed some time to get the ants out of her pants.

She goes back over to the window and peers out, it’s rather grey but the sun and blue sky makes all the difference. She can see a skating rink a few blocks away with the people looking like spots of colour with their jackets.

“This is the room,” a woman says, ducking her head in the door.

“I think you’re mista—”

“That’s Carol,” a younger man says.

“I’m so glad you’re alright.” The woman walks over to her and hugs her, and in spite of herself, Carol accepts the embrace.

“Where’s Terry?” The young man asks.

“Danny?” Therese's voice comes from behind the bathroom door.

“Hey Terry— Kim came with me.”

“Oh— I’ll be out in a minute.”

Kim finally lets go of Carol and Dan comes over to her.

“You’re Danny,” Carol says.

“Yep.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“How’s your daughter?” Kim asks, and Carol looks a little surprised but quickly recovers.

“She’s okay. She’s in the playroom with her godmother,” she pauses, considering, “it’s too early to tell if she’s had trauma. Emotionally.”

Kim nods.

“But a counsellor gave me a form of warning behaviour. I’ll probably have her see a therapist anyway.”

“And you?” Danny asks.

“I’ll find one too.” She smiles weakly at her attempt at humour.

“Are you okay?” Danny emphasizes.

Carol hesitates and then nods. “Yeah. I’m okay. This’ll all probably hit me hard in a week, but I’m okay.”

“Have you ever had a bad nosebleed?” Therese asks from the bathroom.

Danny, Kim and Carol all exchange looks.

“I get them sometimes,” Kim replies.

“Well it’s gross,” Therese says, “too much blood in one place.” The water starts running in the sink. “Like my nose isn’t actively bleeding anymore, some of it just clotted and decided to stick around.”

Danny winces at her exasperation, and Kim pulls a disgusted but amused face.

The water turns off.

“Alright, I’m done. I’m warning you I look awful.”

“Alright, we’ve been warned,” Danny says.

Therese steps out of the bathroom and offers Danny and Kim a small smile.

“Oh honey—” Kimmy says and opens her arms. Therese walks right into them and hugs hers.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” Therese says, though tears well in her eyes. “I promise.”

“Tell me that when your face isn’t such a sigh.” Kimmy rubs her back.

“How’re you feeling, genuinely?” Danny asks, putting a hand on her back.

She steps out of her hug with Kimmy, and he takes her into one instead.

“The pain medication is helping; I don’t feel too heavy or sedated. But I don’t want to overdo it so I’m going to sit back down.” Danny gives her a little squeeze and helps her over to an easy chair next to her bed.

“Carol, do you think you could ask the nurse for that ice pack?” Therese asks settling back onto the chair.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

Danny pulls up two plastic chairs next to Therese, and he and Kimmy sit down.

“Did you bring your camera?” Therese asks.

“Yeah,” Danny pats the cross-body backpack he’s wearing.

“Why?” Kim asks.

“I want him to document it— my recovery. Make it an exposé— I might paint something, but Danny takes such nice pictures, I thought it’d be a waste not to have him do it.”

Kim looks uncertain, “You won’t overwork yourself.”

Therese shakes her head. “No, Dan will be doing all the legwork, I’m just gonna be sitting here.”

“I mean after,” she says. “When you’re discharged.”

“Oh— no, I’m going to rest, for sure. I already had a taste of overdoing it the first time around.”

“Did you hear anything about your apartment?” Danny asks.

“Carol is still sorting all of that out— police and all that red tape.”

“So where will you go? In the interim?” Kim asks.

Therese considers this.

“Home.” She shrugs. “With Carol and Rindy,” Therese says decisively. “Wherever that may be.”

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

A plain pale pine box sits on a gleaming metal platform.

Therese stands wearing an outfit of charcoal grey and black. The bruises on her face have migrated and shifted but remain merely lighter shades of the same ugly red blue purple and brown.

Carol’s own bruise has faded, now a duller brown and yellow.

The room is surprisingly bright. White ceilings and yellow accents. Even the woods floors are pale brown.

They are the only guests in the room.

Therese, with her arm linked with Carol’s. Carol has worn all black.

A technician stands next to the pale pine box and presses a button on a control panel.

A metal door slides up and open and upon the pressing of a second button, the box slides along a conveyor belt and into a second compartment. The technician closes the door.

Therese hears it seal.

“Would you like to say any final words?”

Carol shakes her head. “Go ahead.”

The technician presses another button and a red light comes on as well as a brief warning buzz.

“Please remain behind the line,” the technician says and pulls a switch.

What results is a muted sort of whooshing sound. Like distant waves. And then a sort of humming.

“That’s enough for me,” Carol says with a sigh. She looks at the technician. “We’re going to go now.”

“The ashes will be ready—”

“His parents will collect them,” Carol interrupts, “his parents will collect them later.”

“Alright, thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” Therese says as they head toward the doors. She gets the door for Carol, and they head down the hallway toward the elevators.

“Are you doing alright?” Carol asks, voice catching.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She glances at Carol and sees her fighting back tears. “You’re not.”

Carol shakes her head. “He’s gone.”

“Yeah, he’s gone. You’re free.”

Carol nods. “I’m free, I’m free.” Two fat tears roll down her cheeks and dip under her jaw, she blinks, trying to fight them.

“I know it’s a lot.” Therese takes her hand in both of her own. “You won, Carol.”

“It doesn’t feel like a victory though,” she says, swallowing thickly.

The elevators ding and the doors slide open. Carol looks at the occupants that step out with a wide-eyed conflicted expression.

“They started!” A severe-looking woman steps out accompanied by a man whom Therese can only assume is a priest or clergyman of some sort. She points a finger at Carol. “How dare you cry! You murderous bitch!”

Carol stares back at her more tears welling in her eyes.

Therese levels her own icy look at the woman, facing her directly. The woman falters when she sees Therese’s deeply bruised fact and still-bloodied cornea.

“Heather,” a taller man warns. She shoots him a dirty look.

“Missus Foster, I take it,” Therese says, and glances at the man, “Mister Foster.”

“You must be the one from the video,” Mrs. Foster replies. “The—”

“Heather!” the man repeats. Carol touches Therese’s arm.

“Look at me,” Therese says, “and look at me real well.”

Heather seems apprehensive.

“This is the second time your son has been responsible for my face looking fucking disgusting. Your son had me kidnapped! Your son smashed a gun into my face and fractured my eye socket and my nose! He killed a man! Who the hell are you to show up here and yell at Carol like that!”

“You entitled little—”

“Heather shut your mouth!” The man shouts. “Harge was not the victim here.”

She turns her hateful glare at him and then glances at the priest.

“I am going to pray with my son!” She storms off with the priest in tow.

Mister Foster clasps his hands in front of him. A deep, sad frown creasing his brow.

“Carol,” he says, softly now.

“You were supposed to come later,” she interrupts.

He nods. “I know— Heather… Heather felt that she should be with him when…” he struggles with the words. Grief and regret and anger all on his face.

“I would have let her come by herself, but I knew you would probably be here.”

Carol gives a single nod, he goes on.

“Heather and I are separating.”

Carol frowns. “Henry…”

He holds up a hand. “I cannot take any more of her senseless defence of what our son did to you.” He pauses. “I’ll admit I felt some animosity when it came out that you had been unfaithful—”

Therese glares at him and he sees it, shaking his head.

“But knowing what he has done, and had been doing… I— I understand better now. I was a weak man and let my wife’s convictions rule our relationship… or lack thereof… with you. You and Norinda.”

“Do not talk about Rindy,” Therese says defensively.

“It’s okay,” Carol murmurs, nodding for Henry to continue.

“I certainly don’t deserve any more time from you, and I certainly don’t deserve Rindy’s either…” he sighs. “Everything that was good about him is in her.” His voice is pleading. “I would so very much like to witness that part grow up.” His voice breaks.

More tears drip down Carol’s cheeks, and she nods.

“I need time,” she says.

Henry’s own eyes well over with tears. He nods. “I understand.”

“I can’t say the same for Heather,” Carol says.

“Rindy was miserable on the Disney trip. She— Heather treated her like a doll and not an individual,” Therese says, and almost regrets saying it when she sees Henry’s lip quiver.

“I ask only for myself,” Henry promises.

“I’ll call you. When I’m ready.”

He just nods, looking down the hall to the open door to the cremation room.

“I’m so sorry for what my son did to you,” he says to Therese.

“I’m sorry as well,” she replies. “I know you must be feeling a lot of conflicting emotions right now.”

He nods. “That’s kind of you to acknowledge.”

She holds out a hand, he takes it and she shakes it.

“Go be with your son, it’s a very big room, I’m sure you can find a private spot to reflect on those good things you want to see blossom in Rindy.”

He doesn’t even try to stifle his tears anymore and nods again.

“Thank you.” He turns away and heads down the hall.

Carol takes Therese’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“That _was_ kind of you,” she says.

“I would have fought her right here if she’d said one more word.”

Carol breathes a laugh. “I believe you.”

Therese leans her head on Carol’s shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

Carol presses the elevator button, and then reaches up to stroke Therese’s hair.

“Let’s go home.”

 

 

*~*~*~

 

 

The house is surrounded by floral hedges at a height of eight feet.

A gate at the mouth of the gravel driveway leads visitors to the front of the house, which has a wrap-around porch that is decorated with attractive patio furniture. There is a large back yard, the lawn is lush with clover— white and purple flowers among the green. A large rectangle of wood chips is the home for a large wooden play structure. One large, old tree offers shade in the same spot. A broad deck with a sun cover leads to the back door. A converted detached garage acts as a studio space both for painting and for photography, it is ventilated and well lit— both naturally and electrically.

Therese steps out of her studio in loose fittings, paint-covered overalls. Her hair is in two braids down the back of her head. She heads up the deck stairs and opens it.

Inside the mudroom, she takes off her ankle boots and leaves them on the mat, already undoing the clasps on her overall straps. Underneath she’s wearing yoga shorts and a t-shirt. She chucks them into the waiting washing machine and continues into the rest of the house.

“Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?” Carol asks. She’s wearing an airy, mossy green dress with pretty, bulky buttons all the way down past her knees, and a complementary kerchief on her head like a headband, simple gold drop earrings and a plain grapefruit pink gem stud adorn her ears.

Therese laughs. “I gave myself fifteen minutes!”

“They’re gonna arrive in five minutes!”

“Better get going then, shouldn’t I?” Therese teases, dancing toward the stairs.

“How was work?”

Therese laughs. “There’s always more to do.” She heads upstairs.

Carol walks through the house to find Rindy propped up on the window seat looking through a pair of binoculars. She’s wearing plum coloured pants and a matching shirt with a cream cardigan over it.

“Find anything interesting?” Carol asks.

“A Startling, I think,” Rindy replies, without looking away. On her lap is an extensive tome of native wildlife complete with pictures and descriptions.

“A starling?” Carol corrects.

“A _starling,_ _”_ Rindy confirms.

“They’re gonna be here soon.”

“Okay— oh a Robin!”

Carol smiles.

An alarm trills.

“Someone’s at the gate,” Carol calls, already halfway to the front door.

Carol opens the heavy front door and steps out onto it, expectantly. A car makes its way up the driveway and parks.

Danny, Mickey, Kim and Rayelle all make their way from the car. Danny and Kim carry gifts, Mickey carries Rayelle.

“We made it!” Danny announces. “Happy Mother’s Day.” He greets Carol with two cheek kisses.

“Thank you,” Carol says, and turns to Kim and Mickey. “Happy Mother’s Day to you too,” she says, expecting and welcoming Kim’s enthusiastic hug.

“You look great,” Kim says when she lets go, letting Carol greet Mickey with a half hug while her arms are full of five-month-old baby.

“So do you.” Carol nods at Kim’s peach pants and blue blouse.

“They accidentally matched again.” A playful complaint.

Carol and Mickey laugh. Mickey’s shirt has the same blue and peach colours in a fun floral pattern, but her pants are black.

“Come in.” Carol ushers them into the house, pointing out where to put shoes and hang coats.

“Where’s Terry?” Danny asks.

“She _just_ came in from her studio,” Carol says. “So she’ll be a few minutes.”

“New and exciting things.” Danny shrugs.

“New and exciting things,” Carol repeats with a laugh.

“Danny!” Rindy shouts and bounds into the room. He scoops her up into a hug.

“How’re you doing?” He asks.

“I saw some cool birds in the back yard.”

“Oh— is that from your bird feeders?”

She nods. “Yep!”

“And her garden,” Carol adds. “Put some plants in that encourage certain local wildlife.”

“Like what?”

“Trying to spot a fox,” Rindy replies with certainty.

Danny glances at Carol and she shrugs.

“The living room is through there,” Carol says, pointing her guests in the right direction. “And the kitchen is through the back, you can’t miss it.”

“Great! I can’t wait to unload this baby!” Mickey says and disappears into the next room.

“I made lemonade with Mumma; you want some?” Rindy asks Danny.

“I sure would, let’s go.”

Kim lingers with Carol, offering her a sage smile. “You look happy.”

Carol smiles soberly and nods. “I am.”

“Good, it’s nice to see.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey Kim!” Therese appears on the stairs, dressed and done up.

“Hey!”

Therese’s blouse has a unique design, parts of the fabric pulled at the left shoulder to look like two leaves or petals folded over the other, her pants are white with pale green and blue stripes, they have deep pockets and are hemmed at the bottom. The colours compliment Carol’s dress.

“You look nice.” Therese and Kim say it in unison, then laugh.

The gate alarm trills again.

“Looks like you’re just on time,” Carol says.

“I’ll see you back there,” Kim says, and Therese waves her off.

“You do look nice,” Carol says when they’re momentarily alone, she reaches up and nudges some of Therese’s freshly clean and dried hair behind her ear.

“So you do,” Therese says, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm.

Therese opens the door and steps out onto the front porch. Two cars have come up and found a place to park.

“Sorry I’m late!” Abby calls, hauling gifts out of her trunk.

“You’re not!” Carol replies.

She kisses them each on the cheek and goes inside. From across the house, they can hear Rindy’s gleeful voice, “Auntie Abby!”

Henry takes his time on the stairs and Carol smiles soberly.

“Hi Henry,” Carol greets when he makes it to the landing.

He gives her a light hug. “Hi, dear.”

“I’m glad you could make it,” Therese says, accepting a light hug from him as well.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says. “To celebrate the three most important mothers my sweet granddaughter has in her life.”

Therese’s cheeks flush.

“I’ll take the gift bag from you— please come inside,” Carol says, and steps back into the house, leaving the door open.

“You look well,” Henry says to Therese.

She nods. “Thank you.”

There is no trace of her earlier injuries on her face any longer.

“The concussion?” He prompts.

“Taking everything in stride,” Therese replies. “Still get headaches, but those are less and less. The dizziness has mostly subsided.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Therese motions for him to go in, and points out where shoes and coats go, before welcoming Henry into the rest of the house.

“Papa!” Rindy greets, coming over with a shy smile on her face.

He kneels on one knee and opens his arms; she gives him a hug.

“Hey sweetie.” His smile speaks volumes.

Therese sidles up beside Carol and wraps her arm around her waist.

“You _have_ to see the baby!” Rindy insists. “She is so cute!”

“What’s her name?” Henry asks, letting Rindy take his hand and guide him over to the couch where Kim and Mickey had propped Rayelle up against a cushion (with a blanket underneath of course).

“Rayelle,” Rindy says, and when the baby responds to hearing her name by looking right at Rindy, the four-year-old squeals with delight.

There is a murmur of introductions between the other guests.

Rindy squeals again, “she’s so cute I’m gonna explode!”

Therese laughs and looks at Carol, the two share a conspiratorial look.

“Gosh, I did such a nice job with this place,” Abby says, offering them glasses of punch.

“Thanks,” Therese says, laughing, “— you really did.”

“You made it home,” Carol says.

“You made it home,” Therese agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me to have such dedicated readers. Thank you for making it to the end with me. 
> 
> I'd love to hear what stood out to you, what made you emotional or surprised you. Your feedback is precious to me. 
> 
> I will be continuing this story, not as a fanfiction, but as an original novel, and thus any further posting will be on Wattpad ( @ NOUVEAUWEIRD ) and the characters will have new names. I may be posting my revision draft, but I haven't decided yet. If you'd like to keep up with my writing I post fanfiction on my personal tumblr @ TALLDYKE, and original work on my writeblr @ NOUVEAUWEIRD. 
> 
> I don't know if I'll dedicate myself to another long fic like this for a while, but please know your dedication means the world to me. Thank you so much.


End file.
